Queen of Tarts
by southerncharm22
Summary: He always wanted to know what was really going on in her head and when she leaves he is more baffled then ever.
1. Chapter 1

Queen of Tarts:

Chapter 1/?: Maneater

Rating: PG-15

Summary: He always wanted to know what was really going on in her head and when she leaves he's more baffled then ever. Derek gets a bizarre visit from someone with strange and ridiculous motivations. My take on a simple concept. (I'm toying with the idea of a different point-of-view and explaining her reasoning in the future.)

Eyes half-closed and hair in disarray Derek Venturi cradled one of his extra pillows tightly to his chest and buried his face into it as he turned onto his side. He wasn't sure why he was tossing and turning tonight. Practice had left him dead tired, but his mind wouldn't take that final plunge into a blissful sleep. It wasn't as if he was actually thinking about anything deep. He was just thinking about everything. Food, girls, hockey. Hockey, girls, food. Everything that was really important to a seventeen-year-old boy.

Letting out a groan of frustration he turned over again, hoping the new position would be more comfortable and faced the window in his room. He had to go to sleep.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to count the stupid sheep that were supposed to help people like him, but they weren't working. He must've been concentrating harder than he thought on sheep number forty-five, because suddenly he felt his mattress dipping on one side as it adjusted to fresh weight. Alarmed, his eyes shot open as he turned over to face the intruder that had dared to climb in bed with him in the middle of the freaking night.

He'd expected to see Marti standing with some random stuffed animal, Edwin with the phone, or if he was really stretching it, even Lizzie, but the figure that sat staring at him, took him completely by surprise.

"Casey," he half-asked, half-stated, not caring to hide the confusion that laced his hoarse voice as he climbed onto his elbows.

In the dark he could barely make her out, but he knew it had to be her. This close he could smell her and she always smelled the same, like she'd just finished baking a cake. Her pajamas were buttoned all the way to the collar and her dark hair was pulled away from her face in a braid so severe that it would make a Grade 2 schoolmarm seem relaxed.

Despite his question she didn't answer him. She just stared, her teeth biting dangerously hard into her bottom lip. She looked hesitant, like she couldn't decide if she wanted to answer him or run out the door.

Not liking the look she was wearing he cleared his throat and tried again. "What are you doing in here?" he demanded.

Again, she didn't say anything or make any movement to answer him. Derek had always thought that he would love for someone to sew Casey's mouth shut, but he quickly decided that when she didn't say anything at all it made her seem even less normal.

"Are you sick or something? Do you need me to order Edwin to fetch my Dad or Nora?"

Her pale eyes never leaving his own she took a deep breath and shook her head. Normally, he was comfortable holding her gaze, but at the moment it took a good deal of self-control not to look away. Why was she acting so weird?

"Are you just not going to say anything at all?" he asked, feeling his stomach beginning to drop. "I mean I'm not against you going mute that would be a reason for a national holiday, but it's two o'clock in the morning and I'm trying to sleep. Y'know-"

He'd had more to say. He knew he did. But the words were lost when she smashed her lips into his. The shock alone had left him unresponsive. He couldn't talk. He couldn't move. He couldn't shut his eyes and he couldn't shove her off of him.

She seemed to take his lack of protest as a positive signal and he could feel her teeth scraping his bottom lip as her body began to relax against his. Derek had been kissed by more girls than he had fingers and toes, but this had to be the single most aggressive kiss he'd ever shared. He wasn't even sure he was actually participating or if he was just letting her kiss him.

His face was beginning to burn and his elbows and shoulders were aching, but he could feel the surprise from her ambush leaking from him in degrees. Despite himself his eyes drifted closed and when he opened his mouth to her suddenly nothing else mattered.

Kissing her was like skating on a lake after the first hard freeze. That funny place that stood between somewhere strange but exciting and something he'd known his whole life. She tasted like an odd combination of mouth wash and cheap alcohol, but he ignored it. Her lips were soft but direct against his mouth, not covered with gloss and slippery which more than made up for anything else.

She tore her lips away from his like a drowning victim and he could feel her warm heavy gasps for air against his neck. He wanted to look at her and know what she was thinking, but she kept her eyes closed and suddenly he didn't care.

He'd assumed that at the first break in her assault common sense would have poured a bucket of cold water on him and he would break away and toss her out of his room. He didn't. He chased her lips.

Her weight was welcomed against his chest and he pulled her with him as he fully reclined into his pillows, freeing his hands and easing the ache that had started to grow between his shoulder-blades. Spread wide his fingers grazed down her sides feeling for the bottom hem of her pajamas top. They slipped beneath it with ridiculous ease.

His entire body seemed to be humming now as he tasted that small part of skin beneath her ear. He couldn't quite make out any sound, but that of her uneven breathing and the blood rushing in his ears. He felt her soft fingertips against his face and she easily captured his lips again. She shivered when his tongue ran across the roof of her mouth. Internally he couldn't help but smirk at the reaction he could provoke.

He didn't know why he was letting this happen and didn't care that he didn't feel bad for doing it. He should have. He should have stopped her, or called out for Edwin or dragged her back to her room and never spoke about it again or put it in the back of his mind and never dwelled on it for even a second.

This was not just another girl. This was his father's wife's daughter, his step-sister. She was his best friend's pseudo girlfriend. Sam had never done anything like this to him and he probably never would.

Why in the hell didn't he feel guilty? He should have. He should have felt very guilty.

But Derek Venturi had rarely ever done the right thing and this moment wasn't the time to start.

Underneath her pajamas top his hands roamed freely across her back appreciating the smooth dip that lined its centre. Her skin was soft and she arched when his fingertips grazed that shallow valley. She made an indescribable sound that he'd never heard her make before but assumed was a sound of approval. He smiled against her mouth.

Then it happened. She suddenly stiffened beneath his fingers. Her lids flew open and he read something in those big blue eyes that made his hands go limp. It was as if someone had slapped her in the face and made her realize what she was doing. He half-expected her to hit him or worse, but she only dug her palms painfully into his chest shoving herself away from him and his bed. This action earned her an unwilling grunt from himself, but Derek didn't move.

He tried not to breathe as he watched her quickly but quietly leave his room. Before he had time to knead the back of his neck, he heard the sound of her door shutting.

He should've gone after her. He should've demanded an explanation. But he didn't. He didn't want to know.

It would all catch up to him soon enough. It always did. He would feel it tenfold when it all came crashing down, but he couldn't think about that now. His mind was too preoccupied.

_What in the hell just happened?_

TBC...


	2. It Was Only a Kiss

Title: Queen of Tarts

Chapter 2/?: It Was Only a Kiss

Rating: PG-15

Summary: He always wanted to know what was really going on in her head and when she leaves he's more baffled then ever. Sometimes we all go a little mad, but Derek wants to know if he's really gone crazy. My take on a simple concept. (I'm toying with the idea of a different point-of-view and explaining her reasoning in the future.)

A/N: I'm sorry for this not being BETA'd I looked over it the best I could. As for all of the assumptions, well... I'll verify those in a future chapter. : ) Sorry it's so short, but future chapters will be longer. Hope you enjoy. **Disclaimer: Yeah, I don't own a single thing.**

* * *

Despite the pounding in the back of his skull from lack of sleep the early morning had been rather uneventful. He'd easily avoided his stepsister when she dodged their daily morning battle for the bathroom. He hadn't gotten a word in edge wise when he caught his Dad, Nora and Marti rushing out the door when he'd come down the stairs, his stepmother shouting an apology behind her for not cooking breakfast.

He grimaced against the unforgiving sun that streamed in through the kitchen windows and lit the island where the youngest MacDonald and his brother were eating breakfast. He had a direct order for Edwin on the tip of his tongue when his feet stopped short and it suddenly died.

Unlike himself, she looked well rested. She was standing by the centre of the island casually drinking her coffee and reading the newspaper busily filling that brain of hers with even more useless crap to whine about. She didn't look up when he walked up to the counter, but he saw her thin eyebrows arch when he ordered a bowl of cereal.

One hand propping his head up he watched her over his cereal as he slowly shovelled spoonful after spoonful into his mouth. If she was going for casual indifference, she was doing a pretty good job. She had successfully talked around him all morning, as if he didn't exist as if he wasn't sitting two feet away from her.

He glared at her. He wanted her eyes to catch his, but they always seemed to land on something inches before they reached their mark. He wanted her to direct an insult his way so he could spit something back at her, but she refused, being extra polite to everyone with her ridiculous top-of-the-morning bubbly attitude. He found he wanted her to do a lot of things, but typical Casey seemed to do everything but.

His eyes moved to Lizzie and Edwin but they seemed to be oblivious to the tension that he felt could be cut with a knife. The two were discussing some random kid in one of their random classes. Not something that stirred much interest in him. However, Casey appeared to be giving them half-an-ear. She seemed to be quite enthusiastic about the subject, but she was pretty enthusiastic about anything that gave her a reason to open her mouth.

She was really laying her needless advice on thick making a conscious effort to keep her mouth moving and her opinions flowing at all costs. He had the annoying feeling that she was trying to stop him from talking. He could wait her out though. He had way more patience than people gave him credit for.

A car horn honked outside and he watched his breakfast as Lizzie and Edwin grabbed their books and coats and ran for the designated car pool mother.

It was the first time they had been alone all morning. He'd expected her to round on him and lash out or to dump her coffee and leave, but she did neither.

"You may want to take a picture," she said accusingly, her big pale eyes never leaving the newspaper that she kept beside her breakfast.

"I'm sorry, what?" he asked feigning confusion. He was particularly good at that well that and lying.

"It would certainly last longer," she mumbled, turning and setting her half-filled mug of coffee into the sink.

He gave an unamused chuckle despite the pain still pounding behind his eyes as he rounded the corner and slid his half-empty bowl down the counter."You're so very original, Casey. Do you blow all the other guys away with your amazing wit or am I special?"

His back to her and the sink he readjusted his sleeves at the elbows as he waited for her inevitable retort, but only silence answered him. When he looked back up the kitchen was empty.

* * *

On his way to school his mind drifted to it. Maybe it was all a dream some strange waking dream that made no sense. That had to be it, there could be no other explanation. Miss Priss would never have come to his room and done those things. She was too damn good to do something even remotely close to that. Too dorky. Too moral.

He was able to put the imagined incident out of his mind for most of the day, but it managed to squeeze itself into the forefront of his thoughts at the oddest times. When he'd felt Emily's dark eyes on him and he'd been compelled to glance at the two of them eating lunch it had vividly flashed across his inner-eye. It lingered in his mind at hockey practice when Sam had nonchalantly mentioned her name. Suddenly he was five seconds too slow for every pass, every block, and worst of all every shot. He'd been successfully checked and lost possession more than a dozen times before his coach had finally ordered him to go home and get some rest.

He'd nearly forgotten about the terrible marks he'd made on some test, he barely remembered taking that day when he opened the door and heard her voice. She was standing by the washroom counter methodically folding her laundry and separating it by colour and relevance.

She was too organized. Everything had its time and its place and God forbid anything were to go amiss in her little World of Perfect Order. She ran her life like a freaking military sergeant and expected everyone to just fall in line behind her as if actually knew what she was doing. She was so damn arrogant.

"Where's Emily?" he asked, kicking the door shut behind him. It was the second thing he'd said to her all day and he managed to make the strange enquiry sound casual.

"At home I suspect," she answered, never looking up from her perfect piles of clean laundry. "Why do you want to know?"

"Just making conversation," he answered, shrugging a single shoulder as he unceremoniously dumped his dirty padding and uniform by the washer.

"Since when do you care to make conversation with me?" she asked, her pale blue-eyes still fixed intently on her task.

"I'm hurt," he said mockingly, "Now you're trying to ban me from being polite to my least favourite stepsister."

He watched her eyes quickly cut to the side for a moment before they rested back on her own hands. Taking in a breath and shoving his hands into his back pockets, he took a step forward standing uncomfortably close behind her. He was hoping to gain more of a response, but she continued to ignore him. Her indifference was infuriating. She made him want to tug her ponytail or thump her earlobe.

The invasion of her personal space must have hit a nerve because she swung around so suddenly he didn't have time to react. Her dark hair slapped his face and their heads barely missed colliding. They were nearly touching noses when she faced him, her thin eyebrows beginning to knit and her cheeks pink.

"What do you want?" she demanded, leaning into the folding counter and away from him.

"Who says I want anything?" he answered, reluctantly taking a step away from her and casually leaning back against the dryer as he crossed his arms.

"What other reason could you have for annoying me?"

"Who says I need a reason?" he answered, smirking. "But really, what would make you think that I'd take the time out of my life to bother you? Are you really that self-absorbed?"

Her pink lips twisted into a disgusted sneer at this comment, but she didn't return to her laundry, so he counted it as a small victory. She looked toward the door for a minute before facing him again.

"The washer is free. If you need to use it, then use it. If you don't then you should just leave."

He chuckled mirthlessly turning his head to the side as he scratched the back of his neck. "If there is one thing that living in _my_ house should have taught you by now Casey, it's that you can't tell me what to do. You just don't have that kind of power."

"So," she said, waving her hands as if she was clearing the air between them.

Confusion gripped Derek making his mouth droop and he just stared at her and her pathetic response. 'So?' _What in the hell was that supposed to mean?_ 'So?'

"What in the heck do you mean by that?" he asked, keeping his voice even as he searched each one of her large eyes.

Casey was usually as easy to read as one of Marti's story books. She wore her emotions not on her sleeve but on her whole damn shirt. It's what made teasing her easy fun, and really cutting her down to size as simple as connecting the dots. At the moment she was trying to stay calm and keep her breathing even.

He could see it now. He could see that she was uncomfortable. He could see that _he_ was making her uncomfortable. That fact brought a smirk to his lips.

"Nothing," she answered, quickly turning toward the counter again. She slammed her neat piles into stacks and clutched them to her chest as she stomped away from him.

Letting out a deep breath, he rubbed the back of his head letting his fingers curl around his short hair.

_What in the hell is wrong with you, Venturi?_

She kept herself locked inside her room and he didn't see her nor did he care to until dinner. Too tired to entertain his younger siblings with a narration of his day and too embarrassed to discuss his performance at practice with his Dad, the meal was rather boring. He pushed the food around his plate and listened to Casey drone on for what felt like forever about some silly posters she wanted to order for some silly club that she'd joined.

"I was hoping as a family we could really support this cause."

He couldn't help but snort and roll his eyes at the idea looking back down at his meal. He'd assumed that his reaction had gone unnoticed but he felt her eyes staring daggers into the top of his head. Raising his head, he instantly saw the disgust that was already distorting her face. She was going to lay into him. He could see that she really wanted to, and he would have quickly put money on her calling him a neanderthal or a cad, but she didn't. She didn't say anything, just sneered and turned away from him.

"Come on, Casey. Not everybody wants to jump in a line for penguins rights just because you do. The world doesn't revolve around how Casey MacDonald thinks it should be. It doesn't work that way."

He could hear his Dad's exasperated sigh, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. He wanted a response and she didn't disappoint.

"That's easy for you to say. You've never had to work a day in your life for anything and yet the world just falls in your lap. Well here's a news flash Derek. One day you're going to drop it."

"Seriously, who says 'news flash'. And drop _what_?" He paused, leaning away from his plate as he dropped his fork. "Wait a second here, you are aware that the words that come out of your mouth don't actually make sense."

She opened her mouth, but his father's voice cut her off.

"Can't we have one dinner that doesn't end in you two fighting?" he asked, resting his elbows on the table.

Casey snapped her mouth shut, but her eyes were saying it all. He hoped his eyes were unreadable and his expression cool as he stared back at her. He wanted to see that glint, that spark that had paralysed him the night before. But he couldn't find it. He couldn't find it at all, not even a trace.

Casey MacDonald could run the gambit of emotional basket case to a cold-hearted bitch faster than any female he knew and what he saw was typical bubbly know-it-all Casey. Her pale eyes were full of nothing but warmth and hatred. Disappointment unexpectedly washed over him, but he shrugged his shoulders and it vanished.

* * *

After dinner, having been grounded from television for a stupid infraction, he went straight to his room. Sitting against his headboard, he ran a hand across the back of his neck, trying to rub out the tension that had begun to accumulate there.

So it really had been all a dream, some weird part of his subconscious that had fired off at the wrong place and the wrong time. Impulsively he imagined that Casey's dreams were probably well organized too. She probably even scheduled her nightmares in for a pathetic checks and balance's system. Once every fourteen good dreams, she'd pencil in a bad dream just to keep her head level.

God, he was stupid. How in the hell would he have thought that his _stepsister_, Casey MacDonald, Grade-Grubber Extraordinaire, would have come and tried to seduce him. It was ridiculous. No, it was incomprehensible. Correction, it was preposterous.

He hit the back of his head against the bed's head board. He didn't want to think about what the interpretation of a dream like that meant. Did that mean he was attracted to her? And if he was attracted to her what in the hell did that mean? Was that incest? Was he some kind of sick-o whack-job? Was he going to have to check himself into some kind of clinic that dealt with people like him?

_No_, he commanded himself crossing his arms against his chest.

He just wouldn't tell anyone. Nobody had to know. It was in his head wasn't it. He could keep it a secret. His secret.

His secret that he would forget. Hell, he'd almost forgotten about the entire incident before he'd gotten to school. It would be easy to forget. It wasn't that great a dream anyway.

Frustrated he threw his legs over the side of his bed and went to the bathroom. He just wanted to avoid his step-sibling, change, climb into bed and forget that the day ever happened.

Safely back in his bed and having avoided Casey while doing it, Derek pulled his covers up to his T-shirt clad chest. Having had a combined total of two hours rest the night before it was going to be easy for him to fall asleep. The bright green numbers on his clock told him that it was barely passed eight-thirty, but he didn't fight his lids as they drifted shut.

He didn't want to dream about her. But even _he_ wasn't arrogant enough to think that he could choose what he dreamed, so like every other hurdle in his life he devised a plan to deal with problem. He turned all of his energy into concentrating on the Victoria's Secret model that adorned the cover of the catalogue between his mattresses.

He couldn't recall dreaming or if he even actually fell asleep, but the soft feel of something grazing his lower back brought him out of that dark place. His eyes flew open as he felt something moving beneath his T-shirt and he turned over. He heard a small yelp of surprise and he crawled backward into his headboard. His breathing was quick and he didn't let his eyes move off of the figure that was sitting on his bed until his eyes adjusted to the darkness.

A déjà vu like feeling washed over him. She was sitting on the exact same side as the night before, her hair held back in the same severe braid. Everything was identical except for the pajamas that covered her from finger to toe. However, their pattern was still just as sickeningly lame.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he quickly glanced at the clock and the green numbers flashed two-thirty back at him. It was too damn early. All of his muscles felt too tight and he tried to swallow the lump that had risen in his throat.

"What do you want Casey?" he asked, his voice was gruff to his own ears.

The look on her face was all the answer he needed. His body was suddenly alert and he leaned into her. She was digging into her bottom lip _again_, but he found that his eyes couldn't look away this time.

TBC...


	3. Chapter 3

Queen of Tarts:

Chapter 3/?: Buttons

Rating: PG-13/ Language

Summary: Derek's sick of being confused and in the dark. He wants answers.

After the "tease" left his room, his frustrated body was in painful knots and his jumbled thoughts were in shreds, Derek set his alarm clock to blare earlier than usual. That was it, he was going to do all he could to stay away from Casey MacDonald. He didn't want to see her. He didn't want to run into her in the bathroom, or the kitchen, or the living room, or the hall, or the stairs. He didn't want to meet her anywhere. She was making him sneak around his own house, and he couldn't bring himself to care.

He knew eventually, after he'd gotten an entire night of sleep, a good meal and he had the time to think, he would have a plan to deal with her, but right now he really didn't want to see her. Especially not around other people.

Unfortunately, he pushed the snooze button in his sleep. Instead of the generic alarm ringing in his ears, he was woken up by his baby sister dancing on the end of his bed to a song only she could hear.

Groaning he tried to bury his head beneath his pillow and ignore her, but Marti refused to take that for an answer. She only jumped higher and sang louder. She was so obnoxious when she was being neglected. Damn, she was so much like him.

Snatching his Smarti mid-jump and throwing her over his shoulder he tickled the back of her knees relentlessly until she let out a squeal. God, he loved that sound. No matter what a crap day he was having, it could always instantly brighten his mood and this morning he needed it more than ever. He only dropped her when he reached his destination and glanced at her prancing down the stairs as he slowly finished pushing the half-closed bathroom door open.

Ready to relieve his bladder, he was only a step inside when he slipped his fingertips underneath the waistband of his flannel bottoms. But suddenly something moved in his peripheral and he instantly stilled all movement.

Quickly, he pulled his hands away and they fell dead by his sides. He took a deep breath and slowly closed his eyes against the headache that was beginning to slither its way into his skull. He didn't have to have his eyes open to know who was standing inside the bathroom, he just hoped that she wasn't in a towel because that was something that he just couldn't deal with this morning.

"You're gonna be late for school," she stated matter-of-factly.

Slowly he opened his eyes at the sound of her voice and squinting at her he felt a thankful sigh escape his lips. She was wearing clothes.

She didn't look at him, concentrating on her reflection as she used her finger to apply pink gloss to her bottom lip. From her mousy hair in that ponytail she was so very fond of, to her carefully chosen but still a quite clueless outfit it was clear to him that she _hadn't_ slept in.

"Out. I have to go," he said, crossing his arms as he waited for her to move.

Her eyes met his in the mirror, but she didn't move.

"You look sick. Are you feeling okay?" she asked, screwing the top onto her pot of lip gloss. She almost looked genuinely concerned, but he didn't look away.

"I'm great. Now, get out," he answered, crisply.

"What's your problem?" she asked bitingly, still watching him through the mirror as she tried to fuss with the tiny brown hairs that wouldn't stay put.

"Shouldn't you know," he replied, taking a step closer and generally pointing at her before crossing his arms again.

"What?" she asked, turning to face him. She was smiling and had he been anyone else, he may have fallen for it. He knew that face and he wasn't going to lose another night of sleep over her need to appear guiltless. He would have smirked had he not been so annoyed.

He glanced over his shoulder, making sure the door was securely shut. This wasn't how he had pictured confronting her but it would have to do. He could already feel a bitter chuckle trying to bubble up.

"Let's not play dumb, Casey. You know exactly what I'm talking about," he accused, his voice dropped to only a few notes above a whisper.

"Who are you calling dumb?" she asked, not caring to keep their conversation quiet.

"Don't change the subject," he answered. Like always, she was trying to worm her way out. There was no way that he was going to let her get away that easily.

"I'm not trying to. I really have no clue what you're talking about." Her eyes darted to the door behind him, but he quickly shifted his weight to the side blocking her.

"Really?" he asked, unconvinced. "Do I need to spell it out for you then?"

She continued to stare at him, her eyes wide, and her mouth gaping. The little pot of gloss was shaking in her fist. He was making her nervous, but more importantly he was making her angry and the thought made him laugh. This was going to be easier than he thought.

"Alright Case," he started, bending his head toward her as if what he was saying was top-secret. "You're a smart girl, but if it makes you feel better we can play it you're way for now."

She didn't respond, but he hadn't expected her to. He was already dangling a foot over the ledge, and wasn't quiet sure if he was ready for the final plunge. He took a deep breath and fiddled with the sleeve of his T-shirt. For peace of mind and a decent night's sleep, he knew he had to.

"Exactly, where were you last night?"

"In bed. Where else?" she answered without hesitation, her eyes shifting to the floor, then the sink, then the mirror. Anywhere, but near him.

"That I know," he said, bending his head painfully low as he searched her face. "But whose?"

Something beyond anger flashed behind her flat-blue eyes and he nearly stepped away from her, but held his ground.

"Despite what you think, I don't have to answer to you, Derek. Get out of my way," she threatened, trying to push him to the side. But he wasn't the Centre on his hockey team for nothing. He easily braced himself against her attack and as if she was a young child being pulled out of the street he grabbed her arm and swung her back around.

"Whoa. You can do whatever you want, Case. But you are going to answer me," he demanded, his voice low.

He could read it in her expression. She wasn't the least bit afraid of him and easily jerked her arm away. "Answer you about what? You haven't asked me anything," she said.

He was caught between wanting to laugh at her ridiculous attempt at feigning ignorance and wanting to shake her. Instead he scratched the back of his neck. He needed to calm down before he started to yell or really did decide to shake her.

"Why do you keep– " He paused, reconsidering his next words. "Never mind. What exactly are you after, Casey? There's got to be a reason. I mean, you wouldn't just . . ."

He watched her ashen eyebrows knit in an emotion he hadn't read on her face before and her mouth turned down on the sides. She blinked at him, but looked away, her teeth beginning to gnaw at her lower lip.

"I–"

The rushed knock of someone who never waited for an invitation cut through her answer and he quickly slid to the side as the door burst open.

"Casey, Mom needs you downstairs," Lizzie announced, leaning on the door knob. Her sharp blue eyes moved from her sister to him and back again. He turned toward the crowded sink. Her probing gaze was like an anvil and he could feel the full weight of it. Lizzie was smart, sometimes too damn smart.

"Why?" Casey asked, her voice carefully measured.

"I'm not sure," she answered, her voice hollow as her eyes studied each of them. Fortunately for him, they finally rested on Casey. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes," they both shouted too quickly. But her round eyes grew to twice their normal size and he felt a lie beginning to spin in the back of his head.

"I was just leaving," Casey mumbled, violently forcing herself past him.

"And I was just trying to pee," he answered, moving toward the toilet.

His stepsisters shared identical faces of sheer disgust and Derek felt a genuine smile cross his lips as the door slammed shut.

It was going to be another long day.

Over all, his day at school wasn't that bad.

He'd been pulled into the principal's office for missing home room, but after that the day had slowly improved. In his first class he'd been paired with a cute redhead, whose name he still couldn't remember, but who he knew was pretty damn smart. Probably as smart or maybe even smarter than Casey, but that didn't matter. She was easy on the eyes and could get him a decent grade and that's all he needed to know. Practised

He'd nearly gotten successfully through lunch without having even given what happened a single thought when she had invaded his territory. He refused to hide his irritation as he'd powerlessly watched her slide into the seat beside Sam, Emily obediently flanking her other side. An involuntary image had flickered behind his eyes and he had clenched his jaw in response. He'd fought the need to find another table and finished eating his bland meal as fast as his fork could shovel the food to his mouth.

However he proved he was still king at practice. It had been all his. He'd accomplished on the ice what he hadn't at lunch. He'd finally blocked any thought of her second assault on him and had practised harder than he had in months. He'd played aggressively and his best friend had had the audacity to accuse him of being an instigating asshole. He'd ignored the lame accusation. Some people were just jealous.

After he'd showered, he'd even been given the very rare compliment from his coach. 'Decent job.'Bout time you started proving why I let you be Captain, Venturi.' He'd bit back the easy retort that was on his tongue and only nodded and smirked in response.

He was almost satisfied with himself and the day he had until he reached his front-door. He usually went around the side to drop all of his stuff off by the washer for Edwin or Nora to clean, but if that meant running the chance of bumping into her, he'd rather just leave it by the coat rack.

Having escaped the cold, he shrugged his duffel off and threw his jacket onto the ever growing pile of coats. That rack was probably going to break one day, but that wasn't really his problem.

Glancing around the living room, he scratched his head.

"Anybody home?" he yelled.

"Of course," came a female voice that made his nostrils flare.

She was close. Probably sitting at the dinner table, a glass of water and a half-eaten sandwich by her computer, her fingers busy typing away at next week's homework. She was such a freaking grade-grubber. Where did she think all of that studying was going to get her, anyway? Not invited to any parties that was for sure.

He chuckled at the thought. Besides himself the one thing that Casey MacDonald couldn't control was her ever dying social status and it was the one thing she seemed to want the most. Who else would dress like a freaking video game character just to get attention? Freak. Suddenly a dangerous thought began to turn in his head and he exhaled slowly.

He should have ignored the little voice. He should have continued up the stairs to his room. He should have left her alone. But he couldn't.

Hopping down into the living room, he casually glanced her way. He was right. She was so predictable.

"Where's Emily?" he asked, moving lazily through the dining room and into the kitchen. He took his time grabbing a bottle of water out of the refrigerator. She wasn't going to yell after him, and he wasn't going to rush. She'd wait.

Her face was unattractively caught in a half-grimace and her fingers never skipped a beat as she continued to type. She looked stressed and barely registered his presence. "Why all this sudden interest in my best friend?" she countered.

He would have humoured her had he been in a better mood, but she had the irritating ability to suck the joy right out of a room. "I'm just curious," he shrugged. "Can't I ask a question or two without getting the third-degree?"

She nodded her head. She must've been really stressed because she'd just agreed with him.

"So, where is she, Casey?"

"How should I know? I'm not her mom," she snapped. Her eyebrows knitted further and her fingers quickened. Damn, how fast could she type?

"You're such a sweet girl," he said dryly, throwing himself onto his usual chair and propping one foot on the table as he uncapped his water. "Where is everybody?"

She straightened her back and her fingers stilled for only a second as she scratched behind her ear.

"I think they went to pick up dinner," she answered.

"You think or you- Whoa, what are they picking up?" he asked, suddenly feeling the full effects of such a hard practice. He was starving.

"I think Chinese, but I'm not sure. And I'm positive, my mom took Edwin with her because he needed supplies, Lizzie's still at practice, and George and Marti are still at her school. Apparently he got her to school late too many times this week. I, on the other hand was blissfully enjoying a whole fifteen minutes alone before you came barging in." She looked over the screen. "Why do you care so much anyway?"

He tried to repress a smirk, but it didn't work. "Because you're probably about to start yelling at me. And if I were you I really wouldn't want anyone to overhear."

She looked at the empty air around her as if he'd just told a joke she didn't get. "Wh-what do you mean? What for? What do you want?"

"You know that's rich, because I've been asking myself that same question. 'What in the hell could Casey MacDonald want from me?' I gotta tell you. I'm still clueless."

"I don't want anything from you. Maybe a little respect and consideration, but besides that . . . Absolutely nothing," she answered, but she didn't return to her typing.

"Well, that just doesn't sit well with me. I know you Casey, and outside of embarrassing yourself, you have a purpose for everything you do. Now does it always make sense, no, but there is one. So what is it?"

She took a deep breath and stared at him. Her flat-blue eyes were calm and her mouth was unreadable. She was really mad. Cold-hard bitch Casey had just arrived.

Her voice was sickeningly sweet and held a deceptive tone she saved for Marti. "Why don't you tell me what I did first, then if by chance I actually did it I'll tell you why?"

He didn't like this Casey. She was too easy to ignore. He reclined against the back of his chair. He didn't want to say it. He didn't have to say it. It was too awkward. Too weird. She knew what she did. Why couldn't she just confess to it and leave him alone?

"We don't have to keep doing this, Case," he started, his voice matching hers in pitch. "Either, tell me what you want so I can go ahead and say no, or leave me alone."

"The way I see it _Der_, you're the one who won't leave _me_ alone," she accused, standing up. Her eyes narrowed and she firmly crossed her arms over her chest as she tried to intimidate him. She was swinging back the other way. She was so easy to read.

He laughed. "Well, we'll see who's bothering who at two-thirty, shall we."

"What are you talking about?"

"Let's see," he said, counting off his fingers for emphasis. "For starters, waking me up in the middle of the night and then-"

"You're delusional," she shouted, her eyes searching the table. She quickly grabbed her empty glass and plate and nearly ran into the kitchen

He should have turned on his heel and left, but he followed her. She was by the sink rinsing her dishes and jumped when he caught her.

"Look Casey, I just want to know what you want. If it's money, I'm still paying for Emily's Dad's windshield so I'm all tapped out-"

Pain shot through his cheek, followed by a sharp sting and a slow burn. He wasn't quite sure what happened or when he had closed his eyes until he opened them. She was standing a hair's-breadth away from him shaking her hand as if she'd just slammed her fingers in the door.

Her nose and chin were twitching, but it was her eyes that kept him from reacting too quickly. They held that same strange thing that had him wanting to step away from her that morning. This time he followed his instincts.

"I guess that answered that question," he said, working his jaw. Damn that hurt.

"Stay away from me," she demanded, taking a step toward him, her finger pointing accusingly.

"Trust me, I would if I could," he answered, continuing to avoid her. It wasn't his fault that she and their neighbour got nonstop tickets to Stalkerville.

"Well, I'll make it easier for you," she said, trying to move around him.

He shifted into her path. She took a step toward the other side but he blocked her again.

"Move out of the way, Derek."

Not giving an inch, he folded his arms squarely over his chest. "Has someone forgotten their magic manners?"

"_Please_, move out of my way," she answered, through clenched teeth.

He shook his head. "You're gonna answer my question, Casey."

At his answer her eyes darted to the counter top and then the half-open sliding doors. Anticipation gripped his stomach and he scratched his side on the corner of the island as he quickly rounded it. As long as he'd known Casey she had never been light on her feet and sliding in-front of her he put and end to her escape.

"What's _wrong_ with you, Derek?" She shouted, pulling herself up to her full height and looking him in the eye.

He didn't stop his cynical laugh. "What's wrong with _me_? What's wrong with _you_? I'm not the one trying to score with my-"

He ducked away from her second attempt, easily catching her arm and pinning it between them. She didn't hide her shock.

"I'm a hockey player. You're a klutz. Do the math, Princess."

Despite her appearance she was strong for a girl and when she pulled back he was whiplash-ed painfully into the counter. Cursing a blue streak, he felt her try to pull away again, but he refused to let go. He was almost positive that if he had, she would make a break for it and then he'd be left chasing after her. It was now or never. Grabbing her in a bear hug, he dragged her around and leaned against the counter for leverage.

"Let go, Derek. You think just because you can skate and carry a big stick at the same time that you're suddenly better than everyone else," she ground-out through clenched teeth. She was trying to knee him with her free leg.

"No," he answered, gasping from the strain. "That's only part of the reason. You left out my good looks and overall awesomeness."

Her body squirming between his legs, she blatantly ignored his comment. "By the way that's not Math you idiot. It's pretty clear how you failed grade one."

"Really, is that all you have Casey? You're not even trying," he laughed as he tightened his grip on her arms and dodged her loose foot.

"How 'bout that you're a womanizing-pig who doesn't care about anyone but yourself," she spat, breathless.

"Nice," he said, his arms were starting to tremble from the tension.

Reading her face he half-chuckled at the reactions he could cause. Her eyes were beginning to water and she was gasping for air as her fists beat painfully on his chest. Normally for the sake of his well-being he would have let her go by now, but something kept his aching arms wrapped around her. She was too close to cracking.

"Half the time I wonder how you and Ed even came from the same mother, but after what I've heard about her-"

Her big pale eyes grew wide at her own words, but the low-blow had already hit its mark. It had it hard. She was supposed to be nice. She wasn't supposed to say things like that. She was supposed to be nice, damn it.

His hands dropped effortlessly and she nearly fell to the floor. He didn't want to touch her. He didn't want to look at her. Taking a deep breath, he turned toward the counter, gripping one corner until his fingers ached.

"Derek," her voice was soft. He knew if he looked at her what mask would be staring back. One with a bitten lip and apologetic eyes. The same damn mask she wore every time she needed his forgiveness. "I'm- I didn't really mean-"

"Yes, you did," he accused, disguising his outrage as he turned to face her. "Actually, you know what? Don't worry about it? It was so _pitiful_ and _pathetic_ it doesn't even deserve my attention. Kinda like how everybody feels about you."

He could hit his mark too.

Whipping her hair around like a horse swatting flies, she straightened her shoulders and looked him straight in the eye. "For once, you're right, _Bro_. I'm _not_ sorry."

"For which part, _Sis_. The physical attack or doing a lame-ass job of trying to insult me. "

"Both," she said, kicking him below the knee.

He made an awkward sound and bit his lip as he cradled his injured leg and watched her leave the kitchen through narrowed eyes. As bad as his shinbone hurt, he had to be grateful that she hadn't aimed higher and left him on the ground.

Hopping onto the counter, he pulled up the leg of his jean. What in the hell was wrong with her? She was completely insane. Correction, the entire situation was insane. Question was how in the hell had he gotten caught up in the middle of it?

Running a hand over his fresh wound, he groaned but not from the pain. She had kicked him pretty hard and most likely it was gonna bruise, but something else caused the headache that officially arrived.

He gripped the back of his neck and rested his elbow on his knee. He didn't want to think right now. He had too many important things to worry about that didn't involve getting to the bottom of whatever it was Casey was doing. He had hockey to watch, new video game codes to memorize, a cute redhead to charm, song notes to learn, but most importantly working to keep his spot as captain on the ice. He didn't have time for this, but yet it was driving him crazy.

He tried to rub away the tension from his neck, but somewhere in-between the throbbing and his thoughts he could hear a bell announcing the end of round three.

TBC...

Author's Notes: Thank you very much for reading, I appreciate it. I'm sorry it took so long to update, I can't promise but I will try to get the next chapter out as soon as I can. If any of you were wondering what's up with Casey all I can say is that I promise that there is an answer.

A special thanks must go to my _wonderful_ BETA the talented Miss Carie Valentine.


	4. Round Four

Title: Queen of Tarts

Chapter: 4/? Round Four

Rating: M

Disclaimer: Do I really need to say it? No, I don't own Life With Derek.

Summary: If he was a snake...

* * *

Derek didn't like the feeling that had started rolling around in his stomach. It had started half-a-week ago when he and his stepsister had went three rounds in the kitchen. He had waited for her all that afternoon to come and apologize, she was good at that and always did, but when she'd still made no appearance by the weekend, he knew she was never coming. 

She seemed to have been avoiding him, leaving the house before he ate breakfast, not sitting near him at lunch or in class, studying and eating dinner every night at Emily's. While the Casey-free vacation was just what he wanted, he found that his mind would unexpectedly wander to her at the oddest times. Like that quirky little spot right before falling asleep or when he zoned out in the middle of class.

He didn't know exactly how she'd found out about his mom or what exactly it was that she actually knew, but he knew that he wasn't going to ask her. He had briefly considered asking his father about it, but quickly reconsidered. That was a can of snakes better left closed. He trusted his dad, he wouldn't have told Nora anything that wasn't important, but why would she tell Casey. His mom wasn't her business. She wasn't anyone's business.

He easily pushed his curiosity to the back of his mind. He didn't want to think about it too much. Even if it did bother him. Maybe he was just too bored.

It was Sunday afternoon before he was alone in a room with her again. He was lazily moving down the stairs with the hope of watching any sport on the television, when he saw her curled up on the couch reading some paperback. She didn't look up as he snatched the remote off the coffee table and threw himself into his recliner. He stole a glance of her from the corner of his eye as he slowly changed each channel, but she didn't move.

"When d'you get home?" he asked, using the remote to scratch the side of his head.

Her eyebrows arched, she licked her finger and turned the page of her book, but she didn't make any movement to answer him. Sighing, he turned back to the television. He flipped idly through the channels pausing briefly on each until he inevitably came back to the same station. Why was there never anything on when he really needed it?

"What's that?" he asked, adjusting the cuff of his shirt as he read the spine of her book. He snorted. Girls were such suckers for that sentimental crap.

She stretched her long legs, crossing them at the ankles as she turned another page. Her pony-tailed head tilted to the side on the big throw-pillow but she continued to read the new page.

"So, you're not talking to me now," he asked, turning and leaning against the armrest. Her eyes stilled on the page.

"That's fine with me, but y'know, it should be me," he said, pointing at himself before he turned his fingers on her, "giving you the silent treatment. Not the other way around."

He smirked as her head jerked up. Her big eyes moved over her book and found his own. She was so easy to bait. Sometimes too easy.

"What for?" she asked, indignantly.

"What for?" he echoed, raising his eyebrows and trying not to smile.

"Yes, what for? I haven't done anything to you," she said. Without marking her place she snapped her book shut as she sat up letting one leg drop off the couch.

He shrugged. "Well not lately, but-"

Her pale eyes darted behind him and he followed them to the entryway. Tightening his grip on the remote he restrained himself from throwing his favorite control device at the front door. The knob jingled a second time, before his brother walked in followed by the youngest MacDonald, the latter covered in half-dried mud and grass from her shorts to her cleats.

"Dude, Lizzie killed on the field today," Edwin said, shrugging off his jacket before hanging it on the coat rack.

"Really?" Casey asked, sitting up and making room for her sister. "That's great."

"It was no big deal," Lizzie said, but he could see the smile she wasn't trying to hide as she spun her soccer ball between her palms.

"Don't be modest, Sis," Edwin said, reclining into the corner of the couch beside his stepsister. "You both should've been there. She was all over that field."

"Sounds like some of the Venturi-mystique is finally starting to rub off," Derek said, winking at his fellow Captain. She smiled back.

"Well, seeing as how she didn't throw-up before the match, I guess it isn't," Casey answered, smiling at him.

He caught her eye and matched her satisfied grin with an unamused smile of his own. God, she was so annoying.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that, Casey. Lizzie here," he announced, clapping a hand on her shoulder. "Almost earned herself a Yellow Card before half-time," Edwin explained.

"Lizzie," Casey exclaimed, disbelief and disappointment edging her voice.

"Yo, chill out, Case," Derek said, holding up his hands including the one with the remote. "It was just a yellow card. It's not like she got ejected."

"Don't tell me to chill out, Derek and don't try and tell me how to talk to my sister," she said, sneering at him over her sister's head.

He opened his mouth to respond, but Lizzie jumped to her feet putting her ball underneath her arm. It was clear from her pink cheeks rapidly growing red that this wasn't the first time she'd lost her usual cool today.

"It wasn't my fault," she said, looking down at Casey.

He wrapped an arm around his middle as he burst out laughing at the look of shock on the older MacDonald's face. Poor positioning kept him from reading Lizzie, but he could hear from her voice that she was mad. She was really mad. His brother had a hand on the hem of her jersey and only after a few tugs did she begrudgingly sit back down.

"Lizzie, that sounds a lot like an excuse," Casey said pacifically as she patted Lizzie on a dirty knee. Her big eyes were narrowed on him and he couldn't help but feel that her unjustified observation was directed at him. He sneered before staring back at the television.

"No, Liz's right. Her coach said it was a completely legal slide tackle," Edwin said, looking around their sister at Casey. "The ref just had it in for her."

"See, incorrect again," he said, leaning even further over the arm of his chair and pushing his brother back with one arm to clear the line between them. "Let me ask you a question, Casey. Do you ever get tired of being wrong?"

"What are you two fighting over this time?" his father's voice behind him brought Derek back to leaning against the seat of his chair.

"The soccer game," Edwin and Lizzie answered and Derek glared at them. He half-expected it out of his step-sister, but out of his own blood. Freaking traitors.

"Honestly, you two really need to stop this," Nora said half-heartedly, putting Marti on the floor and removing her coat. "You are going off to university next year and are still fighting like a couple of two year olds. I just think you'll both regret the time you wasted fighting with each other."

"Uh-yeah, like any university's going to accept Derek," Casey blurted.

"All right now," his dad exclaimed in that pathetically super-soft tone he reserved for his step-children.

"Casey," her mom said sternly, folding Marti's shiny purple coat over her arm. "I think that's enough."

Her cheeks turned pink and he watched her face fall as she looked at the ground. Her insult hadn't hurt, but he wasn't about to tell his father or her mother that. She squirmed in her seat and he had to look away to hide his smile.

"Why is it that Derek can say whatever he wants to me and he never gets so much as a shush and I open my mouth once and suddenly I'm the freaking-"

"Casey," her mother said through a fake smile, looking down at Marti. "Why don't we watch the language? We don't need to be dragged back into the office for a certain person's potty mouth. 'Kay."

She made an unpleasant sound deep in her throat as she pushed herself off of the couch and he half-smirked when she moved by him. She didn't say anything as she stomped passed her mother and skirted around his father as she rushed up the stairs. The predictable sound of her bedroom, or possibly the bathroom, door slamming shut broke the silence.

"Well, what's gotten into her?" his dad asked, still staring at the top of the stairs.

"Not much," he mumbled, dryly chuckling to himself as he started to change the channel.

"What was that, Derek?" Nora asked, her eyebrows knitted as she fiddled with Marti's coat.

His stomach dropped and slowly his self-satisfied smile fell as he looked up at his stepmother. "I didn't say anything," he answered, gesturing generally to the room with the remote.

"Oh," she replied, looking convinced. "Well, I should probably go and talk to her."

"But, I'm hungry," Marti whined, jumping up and down on the second step.

Despite the three years that had passed since she'd started school, his Smarti hadn't changed much. She still dressed like a mental patient, toted Daphne around everywhere she went, and threw a fit if she didn't get what she wanted the second she wanted it. No matter how many times his step-mother and her teachers had tried to dissuade this "unacceptable" behavior in his sister, Nora always gave in and most times sooner than later.

"You're right, my tangerine princess," Nora said, looking down at his sister. "Dinner first. Who wants pizza?"

He rolled his shoulders and leaned onto his elbow making himself more comfortable as he changed the channel once again. They were having pizza for dinner, no one was fighting him for the remote, and most importantly Casey was pissed off and even her own mother had taken his side. His birthday week was off to a great start.

* * *

She hadn't come down for dinner and as he read the clock in the kitchen he assumed that she wasn't ever coming down. Sliding onto the counter and shoving his fourth double-chocolate chip cookie into his mouth, his eyes were drawn up as the sliding door opened. 

It wasn't even ten o'clock and she was already dressed for bed her face clean and her hair down. Over his shoulder, he watched her silently cross the kitchen and open the fridge door. Rummaging through it, she disappeared from his sight until she resurfaced with a bottle of water and the last piece of fruit.

"The princess finally comes down from her tower," he said, through a mouth full of cookie as he reached for his mug. She didn't respond as he took a gulp of his cold milk. "So, what is her highness still doing up?"

"What does it look like?" she answered, her voice polite. She sat on the barstool furthest from him and he had to crane his head to see her. "I'm eating dinner."

"You call that rabbit food dinner," he asked his focus on the cookie jar beside him.

"Well, it's better than eating the over processed partially hydrogenated crap you eat," she answered, smiling before she took a prissy bite of her unpeeled apple.

"Okay, I'm not sure what you just said," he started, swinging his foot onto the counter and propping his hand on his knee as he held up a cookie for her to examine. "But your mom's cookies are anything but crap."

Her pale eyes moved from the baked good to his face and back again. Her slight disgust was clear and she placed her apple on the counter. "Those are meant for the whole family y'know. How many have you had already?"

He smiled down at her. "I can have as many as I want. I am the birthday boy after all," he explained, pushing the entire cookie into his mouth.

"Ha! Nice try. I know your birthday isn't 'til Friday," she countered, smiling up at him as if she'd just outwitted him. She tried twisting the cap off her water bottle, but it didn't open.

Sighing, he turned completely around on the counter top so his legs dangled off her side of the island. "More Casey MacDonald logic. I would think that after three years you'd have gotten used to the Venturi ways. Or should I say my way of living, but clearly common sense just can't sink in with you," he said, scratching the back of his head.

She looked away, her fingers wrapped tightly around the bottle top as she continued to try and uncap it. "Please, enlighten me," she pressed, through clenched teeth.

Shaking his head, he snatched the bottle from her hand. "Screw this whole chore-free day crap, I'm getting whatever I want all week," he explained, loosening the cap before he dropped it on the counter in front of her.

"And how is that any different from the other three-hundred and fifty-eight days out of the year?" she asked, her voice flat as she stared at the water bottle. "Wait a minute, did you just-"

"Good point, Sis" he said, cutting her off. Shocked at his own actions he tried to avoid both her eyes and the water bottle. He shrugged as he pulled another cookie from the jar. His stomach was starting to hurt and he didn't really want it, but watching her face morph as he bit the cookie in half made it worth it.

She huffed. "You're such a spoiled-pig," she mumbled, taking a tentative sip of her water.

"I'm spoiled, look who's talking." He finished chewing the other half of his cookie as he dropped off the counter onto his feet. "Who spent the last week at their best friends' house? Not me. And who's skipped all their chores? Again, not me."

"As if you do chores anyway."

"That's beside the point," he said, leaning back against the counter and taking the last swallow from his mug.

"Well, at least they would've noticed that you were gone," she argued. "I was home barely five minutes today and already my mom was . . ." She looked up at him, her dark eyebrows knitted. "You don't want to hear about this."

"I really don't," he answered. "So is that it. Is everyone's least favorite little pampered princess not getting enough attention?"

"No, that's completely untrue," she answered.

"Sure it isn't."

She glared at him and he smiled back. Satisfied, he slid around the counter and walked all the way to the partially opened doors. He should have kept walking, he'd already gotten the last word. But something made him stop. Pausing, a little thought wormed its way from the back of his mind and he finished sliding the door closed.

Her pale eyes widened as he marched back over to the island, sliding his elbows onto the counter top as he dropped to her eye level. "Is that why you were doing it, Case?" he asked, his eyebrows arched as he tried to read her. "'Cause Nora wasn't giving you enough attention."

"Seriously, this again?" she asked, laughing nervously as she pulled away from the counter and dodged his eyes. "I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about."

"No. No. No," he explained, waving his finger at her. "Y'know exactly what I'm talking about."

She straightened her shoulders as if the proper posture magically made her taller and those large eyes darted around the room like a rat in a maze, but he just smirked. He knew that face.

"You're really going to sit here and try to pull one over on me," he accused, lacing his fingers as he continued to stare at her. "I'm disappointed, Case."

"I can't lie about something I never did," she answered, looking at his nose. He winced when her stool scraped the floor and pushed himself off the counter reflexively checking the doors behind him. Confident that they were eavesdroppers free, he turned to face her.

"Am I'm supposed to believe that everything that you did was just a figment of my imagination?" he stage-whispered, stabbing the counter with his finger.

She laughed looking away as she shook her head. "George should really stop bringing you to the dentist so much and try bringing you to a psychiatrist every once and a while," she answered, her voice just as quiet as his own. She climbed to her feet and casually leaned against the sink, but her eyes shot to the doors behind him.

"I'm not the one that needs the shrink," he said, stroking his chin. "But y'know, now that you've mentioned it, I'm sure Paul would just love to hear what I have to say. I wonder what he'd think about that or what the heck, how 'bout the whole school."

"You really think he'd believe you," she stated factually. Her eyes were flat and he could see an element in them that wasn't there before. Was that confidence? He swallowed.

"What?" he asked.

"If you can manage it without hurting yourself try and think about it Derek," she started, taking a step forward and laying her hands against the island as if she were teaching a class. "You're Derek Venturi, the self-proclaimed Lord of the Lies, King of Scams, Grandmaster Prankster. Do you really think your word holds any weight with anyone?" she paused and he could feel his eyes beginning to narrow. "Besides, does that really sound like something I would do," she asked, her head tilting as her pale eyes grazed his face.

He looked away. Crap, she was right. Even he had thought that before, but then after the second time . . . Heat flooded his face and he ran a hand through his messy hair, letting his fingers linger on the back of his neck. He let out a deep breath. What in the hell was he supposed to do now? He had to think.

Turning his back on her, he closed his eyes as he lightly tapped his forehead with his free fingers. Something would come to him. It always did. Idea after idea chased each through his head and he could already feel the headache starting. His lids shooting open he spun around.

"Whoa, what do you mean what you did?"

"You know. Wh-whatever it is that you were accusing me of," she answered, grabbing her apple with one hand and trying to balance it between her fingers as she tried to cap her bottle of water.

"But," he said, taking another step forward as he motioned toward her. "How would you know if it sounded like you, if you don't know what it is? Let's be logical that just doesn't make any sense."

Her eyes rested on the counter top as she bit dangerously into her bottom lip. Just a little more pressure and she was going to crack. He could see it. She had no other out.

"C'mon Case," he whispered, leaning his hip against the island as he tilted his head. "Look around, it's just me and you in here. So c'mon 'fess up."

"What part are you having trouble understanding, Derek? The part where I say, I have nothing to 'fess up about or the part where I say I have nothing to 'fess up about."

"Well, now you're just being unreasonable," he said, trying to sound indifferent and mature but failing miserably as he barely held back a laugh. He didn't know why Casey said the things she did, but he was confident that they had to sound less lame in her head.

Her blue eyes met his and he almost flinched. Silently, she pushed off the sink basin and moved toward the trash can her fingers wrapped around her half-eaten apple as if she wanted to hurl it at his head. Tossing it away, she kept her back toward him, busying herself with finishing the contents of her water bottle.

"So, uh?" he asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

"So I'm going to bed," she answered, quickly sliding past him and he didn't have the energy to reach for her.

This was perfect, just freaking perfect. She wasn't going to come clean and nothing he said could make her. How was that possible?

Unwilling to accept defeat, he pushed the sliding doors open harder than necessary and didn't care that the glass audibly shook inside the frame. He should have stopped to check that he hadn't broken any panes, but he didn't. He couldn't stop, not until he was safe behind his bedroom door.

Outside of the rink he didn't have a temper to be feared and he had never been a 'seeing red' kind of guy. He just didn't get angry a lot. Not really angry. But he knew when he was, he could always feel it creeping up, his self-control fraying like a loose thread. Casey MacDonald was one of the few people that could inspire that kind of emotion in him.

He should've stuck with his original plan. The good plan. The sensible plan. But he hadn't. He'd let something else drive him. Some completely ridiculous part of his brain. Damn it. What was wrong with him? Hell, what was wrong with her? She was the one who started this whole thing. It was all her fault. Why couldn't she just admit to it? Why wouldn't she just tell him what she wanted? Everybody wanted something. It was human fucking nature.

Running his hands through his hair he sat in his computer chair letting the momentum spin him around.

She couldn't win. He couldn't let her win. He couldn't concede, not like this. She wasn't perfect. She wasn't untouchable. He could play her game and he could beat her at it. He never lost. He was a King after all. He would win. He always did.

* * *

His lids felt heavy and his eyes burned. He read the small clock in the corner of his monitor. Shit. It was a quarter 'til three. She wasn't coming. Maybe she wasn't so predictable. He suddenly felt stupid. 

A combination of tension and five straight hours on the internet had left a sharp pain between his shoulder-blades that neither rolling his shoulders nor popping his neck eased. The adrenaline that had been sustaining him had leaked from him slowly and now all he wanted to do was to crawl under his covers. He shouldn't have let her disrupt his life this way.

Turning off his monitor he caught the faint sound of a door closing. Standing he padded to the door and strained his eardrums as if he were listening for an intruder. If it was Casey, she wasn't going to knock. He knew that and as he waited behind the bedroom door his left thigh began to twitch. It was the same reaction he had seconds before the puck was dropped during a face-off.

He could see now how she'd gotten into his room without waking him once. She slipped in like she was a freaking double-agent. She made no indication that she was aware he stood behind her and he seized his opportunity.

She squeaked when he grabbed her waist and bumped her into the door snapping it shut, his free hand dealing with the lock. Not waiting for the invitation, he pushed her sheet of hair over her shoulder, latching his mouth to that soft spot of skin just beneath her ear that made her shiver. She didn't disappoint.

She made a noise similar to a deep exhale and it was warm against his neck. Her fingers were gripping his hair, trying to pull him closer, trying to manipulate him and his mouth, but he refused to let her. No matter how impatient she became, he wasn't moving until he was ready. She was going to learn the hard way. He wanted to smile, but he wasn't finished.

Her skin was salty and smelled like she always did causing his body to react on instinct. He could feel her trembling. Satisfied, he let go. He pulled back and even in the little light that spilled from the street lamp into his room, he could see that her eyes looked darker than normal. For a second, something cut through the fog that had invaded his brain and he wanted to push her away but he didn't. She came off the door and her palms were clammy against his skin as she grabbed his face capturing his mouth before he could protest. He knew their kiss was sloppy, cold and a little rough, but he didn't care. She had to learn.

His mouth fighting hers as he blindly turned them and she nearly tripped twice before he finally fell with her half-beside half-beneath him onto the edge of his bed. His bed squeaked as his free hand gripped her waist and he felt her stomach jerk beneath her pajamas top. Thrown he paused and it moved quickly against his palm before her giggling reached his ears. Looking into her face he watched her eyes dance as she covered her own mouth to stop laughing. He smirked. He'd give her something to giggle about.

His fingers spread wide; he gently slid a hand along the inside of her bent leg stopping just shy of a place he was sure no other boy had touched. She swallowed. He drummed his fingers against her hip and suddenly she stopped making noise all together. Her eyes never leaving his ceiling, she took a deep breath and her fingers fell away from her mouth and crawled up his chest wrapping around the collar of his T-shirt. She roughly pulled him against her and he let himself go.

Like everything else about her, her mouth and hands were greedy. He couldn't keep track of all the trails her free hand had taken, but he liked them all. The way her fingers gripped the hair along his collar or traced circles against his lower back or moved just low enough to make his whole body jump. Her previously bent leg was now rubbing his hip and he gave his now painfully shaking arm a break as he let himself sink against her or as far as four layers of clothing would allow.

His body was well aware of the very feminine form beneath it and he gritted his teeth as she moved against him. He shouldn't have been responding to her like that. It was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. But all those rational thoughts couldn't stop him from paying just a little more attention to her bare collarbone.

He briefly wondered if his hands were cold, because she arched as if he'd just dropped an ice cube down her shirt when he swept his fingers down the slick centre of her back. He smiled against her mouth, kissing the side of it as she shifted and trapped him again.

Having no preference to position one hand moved into her hair as her face lingered above his own. She was biting her lip and his free hand gripped her hip settling her against his waist. She smiled nervously down at him and it felt like a punch to his gut. Suddenly, he couldn't breathe.

He'd planned to make words but a very unpleasant noise came out. It sounded thick and hoarse.

Her pale eyes grew wide and she nearly tumbled off his bed in her rush. He sat up on his elbows watching as she fastened the top buttons of her shirt. Buttons, he didn't remember undoing. Rising and falling with every quick breath she took her hand rested against her collar as if that would amazingly undo the last few minutes. She looked like she wanted to cry or possibly break something. He knew he should've said something, but he couldn't. He just stared at her as she spun around and left his room.

He ran his hands through his hair, gripping it hard until it hurt. He'd done what he had to do. He'd planted the evidence. He was going to win.

So why did he feel so weird? His body hurt and so did his head. He wanted to turn over and bury his head into his comforter, but that wouldn't fix either of his problems. He had to stop doing this.

* * *

Going to and from the bathroom Monday morning, he could hear frustrated groans and the sound of a dresser being abused from behind her door. She was searching for something, something he'd been almost positive she wasn't going to find. But glancing at her from his barstool as she walked into the kitchen he felt a twinge of disappointment. 

"Nice turtleneck, Case," he commented, pointing at her with a fork full of Nora's scrambled eggs. She glared at him as she walked to the refrigerator and grabbed her carton of soy milk. But he refused to hide his haughtiness as he bit into his breakfast and watched her take the only available island space beside him.

"Thanks," she answered, her voice indifferent as she placed her bowl on the counter and poured her cereal. She kept her eyes on her breakfast, refusing to look at him.

"Well I'm just saying it's a little suspicious, y'know with most girls that would be like a red flag," he said leaning onto his elbow and scratching the side of his neck. "But not with you, not Saint Casey."

"Eww," came the collective response from the other occupants of the kitchen.

"Don't be a pig, Derek. Unlike the harlots you chase, a lady can wear a turtleneck just because she feels like it not because she has something to hide."

"Jealous," he asked, turning on the stool and hopping up to drop his empty plate into the sink.

"Not in the least bit," she answered, moving around him as she grabbed the coffee pot and poured herself a cup.

He thought that was her answer, but her next words were meant only for his ears as she held her mug of steaming coffee under her nose and kept her pale eyes focused on Edwin and Lizzie eating their breakfast.

"Just drop it. I know what you did," she whispered, harshly.

Grabbing his glass of orange juice from the island, he lifted it to his mouth, "Then why don't you just run and tell Nora," he asked jeeringly, before he took a gulp.

"You think I can't get you back without running to my mother, Derek," she answered, blowing on her black coffee as she studied her sister.

"It would be a first," he said, nodding his head and crossing his arms despite his glass of juice.

Suddenly her eyes darted away and she brought her coffee cup away from her mouth. "I don't care how long your practice runs the next time you copy my homework, I'm going to report you," she nearly shouted, her eyes staring at his forehead.

She pushed past him settling back into her seat and baffled he glanced at the two subjects that she had been studying with such interest moments ago. Two pairs of eyes met his and putting his glass of juice on the counter he nearly asked them what they were staring at, but a hunch kept his mouth closed as he moved next to his nearest stepsister.

"You're such a sweetheart," he said, sarcasm dripping from his voice as he ruffled her hair destroying her perfectly groomed ponytail. "It'd be best for all of us if you tried to hold onto that rep."

She batted his hand away and glared up at him. "Just because George let's you get away with murder, doesn't mean you can order me around, Derek."

"I didn't have the slightest intention to," he said, crossing his arms.

He'd planned to leave, but instead slid onto the counter next to her plate. This action seemed to only enrage her further and he couldn't help but grin down at her.

"I can do whatever I want, Derek. You're not my father," she answered, her large eyes meeting his.

He snorted. "Thank God, for that."

As soon as the words left his mouth he wished he could shove them all back in. The kitchen was quiet, too quiet. His face was beginning to burn and he could feel Lizzie's big innocent but all knowing eyes on him.

"How could you say . . . Screw you, Derek," Casey said, shoving herself away from him and her untouched breakfast. Lizzie's back was already facing him and Casey quickly wrapped a protective arm around her little sister. Oddly enough Lizzie didn't shake it off and let herself be guided into the living room. But even with his step-sisters out of the room he couldn't stop that gnawing feeling that had started in his gut. He ran a hand through his hair. Damn it.

"Really nice move, Big D," remarked Edwin. "I can see you're going for an all time record this morning. While you're at it why don't you just find Marti and tell her that Santa Clause isn't real."

"What'd I say?" he asked with mock innocence, shrugging a single shoulder.

Edwin just looked at him, before shaking his head with disappointment and spooning cereal into his mouth.

"C'mon you're trying to tell me that hurt her feelings. I've said way worse," he said, settling onto his elbows as he watched his brother's reaction.

"See here Bro," he explained, dropping his spoon into a bowl of colored milk. "If you haven't noticed, me and Lizzie, we aren't kids anymore. We're figuring stuff out and some of that stuff isn't always cool."

"Yeah, like what?" he asked, unconvinced and curious.

"Like stuff," Edwin answered vaguely. He quickly stood, picking up his milk-filled bowl and putting it in the sink.

He glared at his younger brother before staring at the double doors. He knew Ed's words were supposed to sound casual and observant, but he could hear the veiled anger in his voice. Edwin was just trying to be protective, the way that a good brother should be. Derek wasn't ignorant to the fact that his brother and step-sister were tight. They had their own freaking secret handshake. No matter which way he looked at it they were close. Close in a way that he suspected he and Casey never would be, but on the other hand he and Casey were also close in a way that Edwin and Lizzie never should be. It wasn't an ideal situation.

He nearly asked his brother if he thought he should apologize, but changed his mind. Even though Casey had struck first and what he'd said wasn't that bad even taken out of context, it was her word against his and this time there were witnesses. She wasn't stupid and she would undoubtedly use it to her advantage. If his dad or Nora were to find out that he'd dragged their dad into it, his birthday week would definitely take a turn and not a good one.

Glancing at his watch, he blew out a breath of air with relief. He had time for damage control.

"Lizzie," he called, sliding off the counter.

The dining room and living room were empty and seeing their coats still hanging he took the stairs two at a time. He groaned when he reached the top of the staircase and saw who stood outside of Lizzie's bedroom. Damn, couldn't he catch a freaking break? Slowly, he dragged himself all the way to her door.

"Haven't you done enough damage, already," she accused, her arms crossed squarely over her chest. Her lips were pursed and she was trying to look intimidating.

He sneered at her trying the knob, but it didn't turn.

"Lizzie, open the door," he ordered, leaning against her door frame. He'd done this enough with the girl standing beside him to know that it was going to be a long wait.

Surprisingly, the door opened. He didn't know what he'd been expecting; tears or swollen eyes, but what Lizzie presented surprised him. Between her and Casey she was clearly the rational one.

"What's up?" she asked, her round eyes darting between them as she pulled the second strap of her book sack onto her shoulder.

"I need to talk to you," he said, bumping Casey out of the way and easily sliding past his step-sister into her small room.

"Can this wait?" she asked, her voice as neutral as ever. "Edwin and I are kinda running late for car pool."

"This will only take a second," he promised, pushing his hands together.

"Okay," she answered, slowly turning and glancing at her sister in the hall before turning back to him.

"Shut the door."

She gave one last speculative look at her sister and then to his surprise actually did what he asked.

"All right?" she asked, her small hands wrapped around her straps.

He was tentative this was treading on new ground for him. She was staring up at him, her pale-blue eyes filled with confusion and he had to turn his back on her. Doing things like this always took a lot out of him. He never understood why, but he didn't really care. He came all the way up here for only one reason and it wasn't to annoy Casey. He took a deep breath.

"Imzorry," he mumbled.

He adjusted the brown cuff and watch on his wrist. The words had come easier than he had thought they would. The few times that his dad had actually forced him to say it with sincerity, it had been like pulling his own teeth to get the words to come off his tongue. But it didn't hurt so badly to say it to Lizzie, especially when he was actually in the wrong. Instantly, the annoying bite in his stomach was gone.

"What?"

He swung around at the sound of her level voice, his fingers still pushing his brown sleeves up his forearms.

"You heard me," he accused, playfully. "Don't make me repeat it."

"Actually, I didn't," she admitted, shrugging. "Sorry, I couldn't understand you."

"Oh," he said, feeling his face warm and crossing his arms. "I said I was sorry."

Her nose scrunched. "For what?"

"For what I said downstairs. Y'know about your dad."

"Oh, that," she said, nodding her head as she looked away. "It's okay. I know you didn't really mean anything by it."

"Really?" he asked. "I thought you'd be pretty mad. You'd looked pretty upset in the kitchen."

"Oh, I was but not that mad," she admitted.

"Then why'd you run up here," he said, displaying the room around him.

"Oh, that," she answered, pulling on the hem of her sweater. "I spilled orange juice on my shirt."

"So, you're not mad at me?" he asked, crossing his arms and looking for reassurance.

"You're a big jerk most of the time, but like Edwin says, you can't stay mad at family."

He half-chuckled, half-snorted. "Try telling that to your sister."

"I've tried," she answered. "As much as she likes being listened to, she's not quiet so happy about being told what to do."

"But, I thought she just loved rules," he said, raising his eyebrows.

"Boundaries are okay," she explained. "They help keep things structured, but she doesn't like direct orders, at least not direct orders from someone she considers a subordinate."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, tilting his head as he watched her.

"What I just said or subordinate?"

"Ha-ha. I know what subordinate means," he said, unamused.

"Really?" she asked, her eyebrows raised.

"Thanks," he said, dryly. "No, seriously what did you mean?"

"Why?"

"Curious," he answered, nodding.

"Yeah, I'm not discussing Casey with you, Derek."

"What? Why not?"

"'Cause whatever I said, you'd just use against her in the future," she answered, her eyes moving toward the door.

"Do you really think that low of me?" he asked, trying to look innocent and insulted.

She looked back at him, her lips twisted and her eyes doubtful. Damn she was smart. Smarter than even he gave her credit for, that knowledge did nothing for his confidence. He was going to have to be more careful around her.

"Yeah, that's fair," he admitted, glancing away from her and at the shelf of trophies and medals that she now kept hung over her desk. Lizzie was such a fem-jock. The few times he'd seen her play he couldn't help but wonder how she and Casey were even related. But anytime Ed would bring home a blue-ribbon in some random subject he asked himself the same thing. It was as if their siblings had been switched at birth.

A sudden and familiar knock on the door grabbed his attention.

"I'm not trying to rush you guys, but me and Lizzie are going to miss our ride if we don't jet," announced his brother's muffled voice.

He shook his head, looking back at his young step-sib. "So, we're cool?"

She smiled at him, that pacifying smile. "Yeah, we're cool."

* * *

Lizzie hadn't forced him out of her room when she'd left and he was in no rush to leave. Glancing at his watch every few seconds he waited a full two minutes before he opened the door, and as he stepped into the hall he instantly regretted not making it three minutes. Shouldn't she have left for school already? Why was she still standing outside the door? 

"Well, I guess you're not a total monster," she commented, her eyes moving from his hair to his feet.

"Let's try to keep that just between us shall we," he answered giving her an unamused smile as he quickly walked past her and rounded the banister. He could hear her feet stomping behind him and he grabbed the handrail letting it slide beneath his hands.

"Everything's all about your reputation isn't it," she said, following him down the stairs.

"Always," he answered, stopping short on the last step and tightening his grip as he felt her body collide with his. She yelped and when he turned around, she was sprawled on the steps behind him, her thighs made bare where her denim skirt had ridden up. He looked away chuckling.

"What was that for?" she whined, one hand massaging her side as she used the handrail to pull herself back up to her feet.

"C'mon there's no way that hurt," he answered, glancing at her arm before looking back up at her. She was still holding her side and she didn't look angry, but she was far from happy. He smiled. Good.

"How would you know?"

"'Cause you ran into me, remember," he answered, poking himself before he turned around. "Now stop following me."

"I'm not following you," she responded, her voice even and frank.

"Right, stalking would be a more accurate term," he said, grabbing his leather jacket of the coat rack and slipping his arms into the cold sleeves. He bent down to snatch his bag off the floor, when he caught sight of her brown boots from the corner of his eye. He stood up, slipping the strap of his bag over his head as he faced her.

"You're so narcissistic, Derek," she said, grabbing her oversized coat from beside him. She turned to face him as she slipped it on popping her hood out as she settled inside it.

Sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans he let his eyes move lazily over her clothes until he reached her neck. He wanted to make her uncomfortable as uncomfortable as she made him, but remembering what she tasted like did nothing for his new resolve. He bit the side of his lip. Immediately her hand went to cover the spot as if despite her thick pink sweater she needed to add another layer of protection from his probing eyes. What did she think he had X-ray vision? He sighed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Like I said before Casey, try and keep up the good girl image. It's the only thing you're any good at."

His insinuation hit her hard and he watched her face of worry transform into one of anger. "Well like I said, I'm not hiding anything."

"If that's what gets you through the day, whack-job," he said, smiling, before he ripped the front door open and slammed it shut behind him. What in the hell was wrong with girls? No, he corrected himself. No, not all girls. Just that one.

* * *

A small pounding had started in his head after he'd left his house that morning, but after his cute red headed partner had slid into the seat beside him it had slowly begun to fade away. She'd explained that she had to come over to his house to work on their project and had even made him a copy of her notes when he'd partially hid behind her and slept through the remainder of class. During Math he'd been called to the office and told to inform the rest of his teammates that practice had been cancelled, which wasn't exactly good news to him, but it wasn't bad news either. He was tired. By lunch despite the tightness in his neck he could barely remember ever having a headache. 

"So dude, what do you think you're getting for your birthday?" Sam asked, sliding his lunch tray onto the dining hall table. Somehow, they'd managed to get the only free seats left in the whole cafeteria.

"I want a car," he answered, picking up his fork. "But I'll probably end up getting something really stupid like a gift card or socks."

"Y'never-"

Sam's words were suddenly cut off by someone sliding into the seat beside him. Derek glanced out the corner of his eye. Dark hair, lame clothes, weird smell. Damn. It could be only one person... Schlepper.

"S'up Triple-D, Sammy? Triple-D, you look sick? You should probably see the nurse, dude?"

Derek met Sam's eyes and knew his expression mirrored that of his best friends at the use of their nicknames and overall comfort that Sheldon Schlepper had in speaking to them.

"Is there a reason you're talking to me, Schlepper?" he asked, stirring his food with his fork.

"Yeah. I want in," Schlepper explained.

Confused he looked at Sam who just shrugged in response and took a sip from his milk. "In on what?"

"On your Chem. project."

"Why?" The question slipped out before he could stop it, but he quickly waved his free hand putting an end to Schlepper's answer. "Never mind. I don't care. The answer's no."

"Why not?"

"Because I said so," he answered, shoveling mashed potatoes into his mouth. "Besides, don't you have some other victim to be annoying the hell out of?"

"Look Derek," he begged, crossing his arms on the table and leaning forward. "I'll do anything to get in your group."

Something shifted in his peripheral and Derek caught Sam's tray sliding away as his friend slowly crept up from his chair. "Where are you going?"

"I gotta go to the . . . Ugh, restroom," his friend explained.

"So you're taking your tray with you? Gonna be kinda hard trying to balance eh," he asked, looking at the evidence in the tall blond's hands.

Sam's eyes went wide and Derek shook his head. "Just go." Gritting his teeth, he dropped his fork and sat back in his chair.

"So, what do you want Schelpper?" he asked.

"Stacy McBride," he answered, his black eyes glittering.

"Who?"

"The new red head, your Chem. partner," he answered, looking at Derek as if he was very slow-witted.

"Oh," he answered, putting her face to her name. "What about her?"

"She won't give me the time of day-"

He snorted, crossing his arms. "And that surprises you."

"I just thought that . . . "

"You just thought that if you were in my group that what? She'd get to know you and then what? She'd magically change her mind. Dude, seriously. I've seen that girl; it's not going to happen."

"Come on, just let me and my partner join your group."

"Look I feel you," he explained, sitting up. "Okay, I don't really but you've already got a partner. You can't get another one."

"Well, we're allowed up to four in a group."

His eyes wandered away and doing a double-take he caught sight of her ponytail. Emily was at her side and their backs were turned toward him as they sat at a table with a couple of guys. He assumed that they were just sharing a table, until he saw a male hand brush something off her shoulder. She giggled and nodded her head. His face was hot and something flipped in his stomach and suddenly he wanted to the bell to ring.

"So what do you say, Derek?" Schlepper looked at him with hopeful eyes and Derek got more pleasure out of this than he should have.

"No."

"C'mon I'll do anything," the boy practically begged, his fingers lacing.

He laughed. The Schlepper had it really bad for this girl. Damn, he'd seen her she was cute but she wasn't that cute and yet she had Schlepper on a string. What in the hell was so special about her? His eyes darted across the lunch room and something especially cruel slithered across his mind.

"Anything?" he asked, taking his drink from its home and placing it on the lunch table between them.

"Yeah, sure," Schlepper answered, his eyes moving from the drink to Derek. "As long as I'm in your group."

Derek smiled as his eyes rested on his step-sister.

TBC...

* * *

A/N: A big thanks to everyone who reviewed. Hopefully the next chapter will be out soon, but I can't make any promises. Also, there was a reason Casey took such offense to Derek's little jab, **that** I can promise. Last but certainly not least a huge THANK YOU to the talented Miss Carie Valentine for the wonderful editing.

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	5. Chapter 5

Title: Queen of Tarts:

Chapter: Somewhere A Clock is Ticking (Part One)

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Yes, I own nothing.

Summary: This chapter is in two parts and to be honest not really up to the standards of the last few. I apologize in advance for the poor quality. This chapter has not been beta'd and only follows the series up to Season 2. Advance at your own risk.

Kicking the front-door closed, he let his duffel fall to the floor and pulled the strap of his school bag over his head dropping it on top. Wiggling out of his jacket, he continued to check his phone for any texts he may have missed on his way home. Seeing none, he pocketed it in his pants as he walked through the dining room. His bladder was full but he could wait because his stomach was about to eat his liver if he didn't feed it. Food was his single priority and he ignored the people sitting at the dining table as he slid open the door to the kitchen.

"Derek?" asked a familiar female voice. Mid-stride he turned around to face her.

Notebooks and binders, three thick textbooks and a single laptop computer littered his dining table, but that wasn't what surprised him. Sitting around them was his seemingly disgruntled Chemistry partner, an overly ecstatic Sheldon Schlepper, and in all of his sweater-vest glory, Tinker Tomlin.

"'Sup," he greeted, his eyes moving to each of them before they rested on the _cute_ unweasel-like redhead.

"Not much," she answered, violently tapping her pen against her binder.

"So uh, how did you guys get in here?" he asked, crossing his arms.

"Casey was nice enough to let us in since you weren't here," Tinker replied, his disapproval clear in his voice. "Which surprised me since she seemed to be mad at Sheldon-"

"Derek, can I speak to you privately please?" cut in his partner, her beaming smile not reaching her dark eyes. He wanted to say yes anytime, but his bladder disagreed.

"Sure," he answered, scratching the back of his head. "I just gotta hit the... I just gotta go upstairs for a minute, but I'll be right back down."

Taking the stairs two at a time, Derek threw open the door. The bathroom was unusually hot and humid, but he ignored this as he stepped past the foggy mirror and in-front of the toilet.

He didn't quite understand it, but something else had made him want to leave that room.

Tension. That was it. That room was filled with it and that was something he didn't like.

As he zipped his pants up and fastened his belt, he heard the hinges on the door squeak and glancing over he watched it close twice as fast.

"Derek you should really start locking the door," whined the muffled voice.

Smirking he opened the door. Her face was flushed and her dripping hair was almost black against the faded orange towel she had wrapped around herself. Firmly tucked beneath her arm was Nora's blow dryer and on her face she wore a look of a creature harassed. She slightly reminded him of a doll left out in the rain or possibly a drowned rat.

"Well, if you learned to knock I wouldn't have to," he answered, holding the door ajar.

"Are you done?" she asked.

"Temper, temper," he answered, looking down at her. "What are you taking a shower in the middle of the day for anyway?"

"Like you don't know," she answered, shifting her weight to her other foot. "Stop trying to look innocent Derek. It doesn't look good on you."

"Now, we both know that's not true," he responded. "Everything looks good on me."

"Well try being soaked with orange soda and then see how many girls are throwing themselves at your big stupid feet,"

He tried to look insulted but failed. "And who said I had anything to do with that?"

"Sheldon did," she answered, giving him an irritating know-it-all smile. "When he apologized to me."

The unexpected anger at Shlepper's treachery shot through him and he sneered. "That little..."

"Ha! So you _did _pay him to spill it on me? Wait 'til-"

"No," he admitted, cutting her off before she could threaten him. "I told him to just stand by you. You did the rest on your own. They don't call you Klutzilla for nothing."

She shook her head and glanced away wrapping her free hand around her elbow. He half-expected her to stomp her foot. He could have moved out of the way and let her go, but something kept him rooted to his spot. She had that negative affect on him, and with her head tilted away, he caught his first glimpse at his handiwork below her ear. His smirk faltered. He hadn't really expected it to be so...

"You're such a jerk," she cried, forcing his eyes to snap back up to meet her pale ones. "You probably ruined my favourite turtleneck."

"Please," he replied, leaning on the doorframe as he watched her face. "There's no way you would've been wearing that if I hadn't hidden the rest of them."

She let out a sardonic laugh. "Do you lie in bed every night thinking of new ways to torture and humiliate me?"

He'd be lying if he said no, but as of last week, he'd also be lying if he said yes. Good thing he wasn't adverse to lying.

"Don't flatter yourself," he answered, scratching his elbow as he adjusted his sleeve. "But, since we're already on the subject of losers, why did you leave those two downstairs alone? Are you _crazy_?"

"Well, I would have gladly babysat your little playmates, Derek but I had to come up here and rinse all of the refined sugar out of my hair," she explained as if she was talking to a small child. "But, seriously they aren't exactly the Senior hockey team, I'm pretty sure the livingroom will be intact when you go back down."

"Yeah, but will my reputation be," he answered.

Her eyes grew wide and she grabbed the hair dryer from beneath her arm. He didn't think Casey would actually wield it as a weapon, but she was doing other things he hadn't expected of her and he braced himself just the same.

"You have got to be the most vain person I've ever met," she said, whipping her ropes of wet hair from her face.

"Are you sure about that, 'cause you do own a mirror," he asked, his eyes darting to the weapon dangling by her side.

"I'm not vain,"she answered, genuinely affronted.

"Really," he laughed. "'Cause your makeup bag would beg to differ. What do you carry around in it? Lead."

"This coming from the boy who uses more moose than a pageant queen _and_ has on occasion borrowed my lip gloss,"she answered, and that damn smile was back.

"That was one time,"he answered, dropping his voice. "One time,"he repeated. "And it was an emergency and it wasn't lip gloss it was chapped stick. There's a _huge_ difference."

"Hey Derek," at the sound of his name, he poked his head around the doorframe causing her to take a step back. Standing at the top of his stairs, hands in the kangaroo-pockets of his grey sweatshirt was one of his new chem partners.

"Schlepper?" he asked, trying not to sound confused or irritated. "What do you want?"

He nodded his head in recognition, but then his black eyes slid passed Derek and went wide as they rested on Casey as if he'd just noticed a girl was standing in the room half-naked. "Ouch Casey, what happened to your neck?" he asked.

Her face was red and her pale eyes met his. She was going to panic. Quickly she tried to move around him, but instinctually he shifted to block her.Her shock apparent, she shoved him hard and he let her pass, but she dropped the blow-dryer on her foot in the process. He could hear her howling behind him as he grabbed the knob and closed the door.

His shoulders were under his ears as he rested his hand on the doorknob. Schleeper had taken a few more steps closer to the bathroom, probably curious as to what the commotion was over, and Derek was nearly face to face with him.

"What d'you need Schleeper?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

The shorter boy shook his head as if he had water in his ears.

"Oh, yeah. Stacy said if you're not downstairs in five minutes she's leaving. But man, your stepsister isn't looking half-bad-"

"Stop there or I'm going to vomit," he said, holding up a finger. "Now, go back downstairs. Tell my Chem. partner to stay put and I'll be there in two minutes. Got it."

Schlepper nodded his head, but didn't move. Giving him a tight smile, Derek waved his hand as if he was dismissing class hoping the boy would get the hint and lifting his thick eyebrows Schlepper returned the smile and turned back down the stairs.

Listening to Schlepper's voice float up from the kitchen, he released the breath he hadn't known he was holding. Opening the bathroom door, he inched his head around the edge and watched her adjust the buttons on her blow-dryer as she bent and turned her head to the side. Her eyes met his in the mirror and she glared at him.

"Happy now?" she asked, over the low hum.

"Almost," he answered, smirking as he reached over and unplugged the device before rushing out the door.

It was a lie of course. He wasn't even close to happy. Actually, he wasn't even sure he knew what she was asking about. But he knew he was being stupid. He'd done something stupid last night, he'd done something stupid at school and now he was still doing stupid things. Why couldn't he stop himself?

It would be an understatement to say that the project meeting did not go well. Outside of its poor timing and overall coma inducing study material the people that sat around Derek's dining table didn't help matters any. His Chemistry partner wouldn't stop complaining about Schlepper staring at her, Schlepper wouldn't stop staring at her, and Tinker Tomlin wouldn't stop staring at the damn stairs. He didn't know what their problems were and he didn't care, but he couldn't really blame them. He couldn't bring himself to focus on the task at hand because he wanted to be anywhere else but in the room. Overall, the meeting was a complete failure and waste of his time.

An hour after he'd found them in his diningroom he finally managed to shuffle the entire group out his front door and he felt like collapsing against it. Instead he shoved his hands into his pockets, closed his eyes and leaned into it. Who knew three people could be so draining?

He wanted to climb between his sheets and sleep until dinner. He didn't want to deal with this right now. He didn't want to deal with it at all. His Chem-partner was livid and she wasn't afraid to let him know it. Why had he agreed to let Sheldon Schlepper into his group? Just to get back at Casey. It wasn't worth it. He had hardly felt any of the elation he'd been expecting and now the cute redhead wanted to strangle him. Great.

A soft tap on the cold pane of glass behind him brought him back around. He thought of just running up the stairs and avoiding whoever it was, but he didn't. Yawning, he opened the door and smiled at the girl who stood on his front porch.

"I think Casey's upstairs," he said, holding the door wider and stepping aside as she walked in.

"Thanks," she answered. "Hey, can I ask you something?"

He shrugged.

"Did Sheldon Schlepper and Tinker Tomlin just leave your house?"

"Yeah," he answered. He had the urge to add _so _at the end, but resisted.

"Oh," she said, trying not to giggle as she ran up the stairs.

Derek set his teeth. If he was a laughing-stock to _Emily _already how well did that bode for the rest of the school. Exhaling, he swung the door shut with enough force to rattle the glass.

Derek smiled watching a crestfallen Lizzie take her seat at the dinner table. It wasn't that he didn't like his stepsister, it was just that his catnap had run over and before she'd sat down he'd been on dish-duty. Better her than him.

He reached over the salad and grabbed a ladle full of macaroni piling it on his plate. He was stabbing a few noodles on his fork when he heard her prissy throat clear. The low buzz of half spoken words and utensils scrapping plates didn't cease and she tried again. He looked up.

She'd spent the majority of the afternoon locked in her room with Emily and looked better for it. She didn't look half as angry as she had earlier, more like how he felt after a big game.

"Um, Mom," she started, her voice taking on that deceptively sweet tone, it was like poisoned honey. "Emily's parents are bringing her to see a few campuses this weekend and they invited me to come along,"

"Didn't you two and another girl go campus touring not too long ago?" Nora asked, taking a bite from her dinner roll.

"Yes, but that was two months ago," she argued, her tone not wavering despite her objection. "Don't you think that I should probably explore my options."

"Yes I do," his step-mother agreed. "But at the moment I just don't think that would be a very good idea, sweetie."

"Why not?" she asked, and he could hear the tilt of her patience in her pitch.

"Well," Nora said her patience running as thin as Casey's. " I'd like for my daughter to actually be home every once and a while."

"I'm home," she argued.

Reluctantly intrigued by the sudden turn of dinner conversation, he put down his fork and grabbed his glass as he reclined. Despite her argument with her mother his action must have caught her attention, because her whole face turned on him and he caught a glimpse of her pouted mouth before she turned back on her mother.

Derek had always been able to pick Casey apart easily, but her lips were the one thing that he never could bring himself to comment on. They were always the one part of her face he never focussed on in an argument. Her icy glare he could handle, her bared teeth were easy to ignore, even her hair was nothing but ashen rope, but her lips always made his mind go numb. And that was before he knew what they felt like.

He quickly shook his head and the buzzing stopped.

"Casey, you were gone for most of the weekend and when I did see you it was barely five minutes," Nora was saying.

"And you're complaining about that," he said, taking a sip of his drink as he tried not to grimace. When had their voices gotten so loud?

"Derek," his father warned from the other end of the table.

"I'm just saying if Casey wants to leave I have no problem with it," he answered, trying to avoid her eyes.

"Be that as it may, it's not your decision to make Derek," Nora replied.

"Yes, but it is his birthday," Casey countered. "Shouldn't he have a say in whether I'm here or not."

"Girl's got a good point Nora,"he assisted.

His stepmother lifted a leery eyebrow. She was suspicious. Damn, those MacDonald women caught on fast. He gave her a disarming smile.

Pale eyes watched him from across the table, but he refused to look at her. She was probably wondering what his real intentions were and for once he didn't have any. He just wanted her gone.

Nora looked down the table at his dad.

"I don't have a problem with it," his dad said, shrugging. "But I back whatever you decide."

His stepmother sighed. She was weighing the options.

"I'm sorry Casey, but I'm still going to have to say no. Maybe next time," she answered, trying to reach for her daughters hand, but Casey pulled away quickly.

Derek nearly snickered, so it wasn't just himself that got visits from the Ice Queen.

Her eyes narrowed and she looked back down at her dinner. She was mad, but she wasn't mad enough to argue with her mother at the table. He could see that. She was probably trying to figure out a way to blame this all on him.

Sleep was quickly pulling Derek under when he felt pressure on his shoulder. He tried to say what, but even to his own ears it sounded like a moan. He felt the familiar shape of a hand against his arm and rough shake. He was ready to pull away when realisation cut through the fog.

"What do you want Casey," he mumbled, pulling his covers up to his chin.

"What?"

Alarmed, Derek sat up his thick blankets falling to his waist as he reached for his lamp. "Ed," he asked, hoping his brother wouldn't repeat his own question. His luck wasn't so good.

Scratching the back of his head, Edwin sent black locks up into different directions as he settled himself on the end of Derek's bed. "Did you just call me Casey?" he asked, pulling a pieced of construction paper of his face.

"What!?" Derek said, trying to keep his voice flat. "No."

"I thought you just-"

"Edwin it's-" he glanced at his clock. "Two in the morning what d' you want?"

"Well, actually this is about Casey," he said, looking slightly uncomfortable.

Derek stiffened. "What about her?"

"I can't sleep with her yelling like that," he said trying to stifle a yawn.

"Then tell her to get off the phone," he said, feeling like his patience at an end. It was two o'clock in the freaking morning and the brunette he wanted in his bed was certainly not his brother.

"I tried but, she's being..." he looked like a spider had just crawled down his back. "Emotional."

He tried to rub away the tension at the base of skull. "Why didn't you go to Lizzie?"

"And have her mad at me too. I don't think so."

He pulled his hand away, crossing his arms. "So why is this my problem?"

"Because you're an awesome brother," Edwin said, titling his head and adding a smile for affect.

"Try again," he replied, unamused.

"Well," Edwin said, "If you handle Casey I'll... Do your half of the Chem. project."

"Deal," Derek said, before his brother could back out. It was the middle of the night, he couldn't bring himself to care that somehow Edwin knew more about is school work than he did.

TBC... Chapter Five Part 2


	6. Chapter 6

Title: Queen of Tarts (Part II: Somewhere A Clock Is Ticking)

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: I Own NOTHING!

Summary: The summary and the disclaimers for the last chapter apply here as well. The characters may seem a bit OOC in this chapter, but there is a reason for everything. Once again, this in unbeated so advance at your own risk.

"I wasn't being that loud," Casey hissed, sitting up and snapping her cell-phone closed.

She had been stomach down on her bed when he'd opened the door, but unlike his own warm bed her sheets were as perfect they had been when she'd left that morning. There was a random folder and a notebook open at the foot of her bed, but he ignored this. It just didn't seem to him that she was ready to go to bed, except for the homely pajamas that she had buttoned to the collar of course.

"You want to bet on that," he said, crossing his arms as he leaned against her door frame.

She scoffed, "That's not fair. Do you know how many times I've had to sleep through that noise you call music?"

Derek could feel the headache already starting to pound behind his eyes. He really didn't feel like fighting with Casey. "And exactly why are you trying to drag me into this, I wasn't the one complaining. _I_was sleeping just fine," he said yawning.

"Yeah, right," she said, skeptically.

"I_am_ right," he whispered, "You're keeping Ed up, not me."

"Really?" she asked. Her eyes darted passed him to the open door and her whole face scrunched in concern.

"Really," he answered, unamused. "He's got something due for school tomorrow morning and he can't get to sleep with you bitching and moaning. So, why don't you do us all a favour and just _shut-up_ and go to sleep."

Her eyes darted back from the door and he knew he'd said the wrong thing. He'd been so close to getting her to shut her mouth but like always he'd gone too far. Damn it. It was late. He was tired and he really wasn't in the mood for this crap.

"You can't tell me what to do,"she hissed, straightening her shoulders.

"Actually I can, but I'm way too tired for that argument. So," he said taking a step forward, "I'm just gonna take this." He snatched her cell-phone and stepped away. "And go back to my room."

She grabbed for her phone, but he easily dodged her. He could hear her climbing off her bed after him as he half-ran half-slid around the divide between their rooms.

"Derek, give me back my phone," she quietly whined stepping into his room.

"Let me think about that for a second," he said, matching her pitch and running over his bed and using it as an obstacle between them. "No."

"I mean it," she warned through clenched teeth, her hands balled fists at her sides.

"Or what?" he asked, mockingly. "You'll glare me to death."

His mattress squeaked as she climbed onto it lunging for the hand that held her phone captive. Needing to match her in height he jumped on, meeting her halfway and she nearly fell from the unexpected shift. Keeping one hand against the wall for leverage, he continued to hold the small phone high above his head and out of her reach.

"C'mon Casey are you going to jump for it or not," he asked, dangling it inches above her hand.

"You're so immature,"she stage-whispered, yanking at his elbow and causing him to falter, but pushing into the wall he held his balance. "No matter what you think, this isn't funny."

"Yeah, well neither is keeping up the entire household," he ground out between breaths, "Just because you're having boy problems," he answered, trying to keep upright on the uneven mattress.

"That's none of your business,"she squeaked, grabbing his arm and turning her back to him. The sudden move took him by surprise and he instantly let go of the phone, but it was too late his footing was already lost. Hitting the bed, a crack sounded and the back of her head collided painfully with his cheekbone and he tried not to cry out as stars burst behind his eyes. He could feel her squirming under him and trying to push both of them up, but he didn't care.

"I can't breathe," she gasped, her fingers digging into his comforter as she tried to military crawl from beneath him.

His hand still holding his injured eye, he rolled off her and onto his back. He stared at the ceiling and waited for her to find her phone and leave, but she only laid beside him trying to catch her breath. Tilting his head he watched her, watch him.

They sat quietly for a moment. If half of his face hadn't been swelling it would have almost been nice.

"You shouldn't have taken my phone," she whispered indifferently, sitting up and rubbing the back of her head.

"You shouldn't have been talking so damn loud," he answered, following her lead. He tried arching his eyebrows but it didn't help.

"Yeah, well you should've just asked me to be quiet instead of yelling at me," she countered.

"You should've just done as you were told instead of acting like such a little princess. You're not always right y'know," he answered, unable to take his hand from his eye. It needed ice.

"I know,"she answered, looking away. "But, you should've... You shouldn't..."

"I shouldn't have what?" he asked accusingly, rubbing the highest point on his cheek. It was starting to swell and would most likely bruise, becoming his latest battle wound in his war against Casey MacDonald.

She looked at him, her eyes switching from one of his to the other. She was probing. He'd done it enough to know it when he saw it. She was trying to find something there. What was it? He didn't know, but he didn't like it. He quickly looked away and she exhaled.

"Nothing," she whispered. "How bad does that hurt?"

"It doesn't," he answered, dropping his hand to his knee. It was a lie, it hurt like hell, but for some strange reason he didn't want her to know that.

"Well," she said, sighing. "I just wanted you to let go of my phone. I didn't mean to break your jaw."

He snorted. "You haven't been in too many fights, have you Case?"

"What do you think?"

"I_think_," he said, throwing his feet over the side of the bed. "That has to be the _worst_ apology I've ever heard."

Her mouth fell open. "I wasn't trying to apologize. I didn't do anything wrong."

"Yeah, okay," he answered, leaning back on his palms.

"I didn't," she reaffirmed, causing a hollow sound when she hit him in the chest. He tried not to wince. "You're the one who came and stole my phone."

"Yeah, well I guess I'll do anything to shut you up."

"Gosh, Derek," she said, not hiding her obvious contempt. "You really know how to charm a woman."

"Well, maybe when I do see a _woman_ I'll try and turn on the charm."

"You're such a jerk." By the tinkle in her laugh, he was confident that there was little conviction behind the insult.

"_I'm_ the jerk?" he asked, putting a hand to his chest. "Technically_you're_ the one who fell on _me_ and to top it off you won't even apologize for it."

"So says you," she answered, turning to face him. "You're dad's the defence attorney you know your case is completely circumstantial."

He scoffed pointing a finger at his eye. "Does this injury look circumstantial to you?"

Suddenly her eyes looked to the swollen flesh along his cheekbone. Her entire face suddenly transformed.

"It does look pretty swollen," she said, the first signs of concern lacing her voice.

"Yeah, well it doesn't feel so good either."

Without warning, she reached over and brushed his cheek. Had she been anyone else he would've thought it was an absent gesture, but with Casey MacDonald everything was calculated. When her fingertips ran across his soon-to-be bruise he clinched his teeth. Usually hockey players didn't wince at bruises, but his face hurt too damn much to care.

"Your hands are hot," he said, for lack of anything better.

"Really?" she asked, one hand moving to cup his chin. He nearly pulled away from her, but Casey MacDonald lacked bedside manner and simply jerked his head closer to her own. Her pale eyes were moving across his face and she was digging her teeth into her plump lip as she admired her damage. He set his jaw, but let her hold him still.

There was an almost hypnotic quality about her when she moved. It reminded him of a nurse who would loll you into a feeling of safety before she helped the doctor reset your arm. It was uneasy but incredibly exhilarating.

"Really," he answered, but his voice sounded distant to his own ears.

Her eyes met his. They were darker than usual, as if that black dot had eaten away almost all of the colour leaving only a sliver of pale blue. He could read the curiosity behind them and it had nothing to do with his cheekbone.

He couldn't watch her this close. Her breath was too warm against his chin. Her fingertips were too soft. Her lips too tempting. She smelled too good. It was just too much.

He merely needed to move forward and his lips would be on hers. He knew the way those lips felt, how she could make him feel. He should've broke the eye contact before he did something stupid, but Derek Venturi had never been accused of being very smart.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers. However, her reaction was not what he'd expected. She pulled away and quickly slid off the bed. She was watching him as if he was a wild dog.

"Derek," she whispered, her breath coming as if she'd just run a marathon. "What are you doing?"

Derek laughed, but there was no pleasure behind it. "You've got audacity, Casey. I'll give you that."

"What does that mean?"she asked, her fear quickly replaced by anger.

"What have _I_ been doing, how 'bout what _you've_ been doing Case?"

She was fuming. He could see it in the way she pushed her hair behind her ear. It was a nervous habit, but it was a nervous habit that revealed the mark he'd left. The dark bite that was in such stark contrast to her pale skin.

She glared down at him. "I don't have to listen to this."

He didn't know if it was the late hour, the way his body was reacting to his step-sister or the fact that he was just generally pissed off, but he raced after her his blood coursing just a little faster. They reached their destination simultaneously, and he shut it as quickly as she tried to open it. He was trapping her between himself and his door. Most likely she would fight him like a stray cat, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Surprisingly, she went still, her back as hard the door they stood against. Her hair was dry and hung between his lips and her ear, but he could feel in the tension between her shoulders that she heard every word he said, "Now Casey dear, what exactly _didn't_ happen last night because for the life of me I just can't remember."

Her head snapped sideways and she glared at him.

"Fine, I did it," she answered.

The unexpected confession left him in shock. The power of her few words paralysed him for a moment, and he nearly let her go. He'd expected to feel something. He wasn't sure what, but at least something. "Did what?"

"Don't be such an ignoramus, Derek," she spat, her hair slapping him in the face as she spun around to face him.

"I'm not even sure what you just said Casey, but..." His next words were barely above a whisper. "I just want to know why in the hell you've been sneaking my into room at night."

"Since when do you care about the how and the whys Derek. Aren't you Mister Carefree? Since when does everything have to make sense for you?"

"Yeah, well, since when did you become such a..." Derek left his insinuation hanging between them.

Her lip trembled, but her eyes didn't water. "You're such a hypocritical pig, Derek."

"That's right I'm the hypocrite, Casey," he said, pointing at himself before crossing his arms.

"You're trying to say you're not," she questioned, taking a step toward him, her own arms crossed against her chest.

He wanted to take a step backward, but held his ground. "Look whatever crap you're trying to pull isn't going to work Casey, so just stop."

She smiled at him. It was one of the few expressions that made Derek want to shake her."Do you really have that low of an opinion of yourself, Derek?"

"God, Casey," he said, stepping away from her. "If there was a 'Lamest Lines Ever' award, you'd win it hands down."

"Does that scare you Derek?" she said taking a step toward him. "Does it scare you that everyone's going to eventually figure out that you're really not all that great. That they're going to figure out what a fraud you really are. They'll see right through your little scheme-"

"My scheme" he repeated, pointing at himself. "_ My_ scheme. What about _your_ scheme, Case?" He turned his finger on her. "What about when everyone finds out what you've been doing for the last month?"

Again, she smiled at him. "And exactly _who's_ going to believe _you?_"

He felt his breath catch in his throat. What in the hell had happened to Casey MacDonald? "Well, that's fair," he answered, trying not to sound as defeated as he felt.

"You've never played fair, Derek. Why should I?"

"So that's what this is about? You wanna mess with my head over pranks. That's really fucked up y'know."

She straightened her shoulders, switching her cell phone from one hand to the other. "Maybe. Maybe not."

It was her tone that made him clench his fists. It was infuriating. She was that little princess, that prissy bitch too caught up in controlling the world to see past herself. Suddenly, he couldn't catch his breath and the only sound he could hear was the blood rushing in his ears and the angry thump of his heart against his chest.

"Casey," he said, pushing the sleeves of his night shirt to his elbows. He took a step toward her and wasn't surprised that she didn't move. Casey had never been afraid of him.

"What?" she said. Her voice wasn't quite as smug, but he was beyond caring.

"I'm gonna do something that I should've done two weeks ago," he said, grabbing her by the arm. He didn't know what she expected as he backed them to the door, but what he did next had to have been in her index of outcomes. Opening his bedroom door he returned her smile smugly, "I know this might be hard for you, Casey. Well, with me being me, but try and stay the hell away from me and my room."

A sharp pain behind his eyes is what woke him up the second time that night, but it wasn't long before he heard the quiet swing of his door and suddenly he wasn't alone in his room. Had it been any other night he would've just ignored her and tried to get those few hours of sleep back, but he was too angry to really sleep anyway.

"Casey it's four o'clock in the fucking morning. What d'you want?" he asked, not caring to keep his voice down.

She had been holding something in her hands and threw it on his bed beside him. Sitting up, he looked down at the cold object lazily. It was a bag of frozen peas.

"For your eye," she explained.

He leaned his head to the side, narrowing his eyes at her. He was still too irritated to give a damn that she was trying to make amends with a lousy olive branch.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"You're what?"

"I said I was sorry," she said, her tone betraying her annoyance with the admission.

His lips twitched into a smirk. "Well, that's a first."

"I said I was sorry, Derek what else do you want?"

"A new car would be nice," he said, hoping to antagonize her further.

"I'm serious," she said, tucking her hair behind her ear and letting him know his mission had been completed successfully.

"Yeah, that's new," he said, sarcastically.

"Derek."

"Casey," he repeated, knowing her annoyance gauge was quickly capping off.

"Look, Derek I'm sorry about the," she gestured to her face, "and everything else."

He stared back at her.

"Well, I suppose you don't have anything to say back to me then," she said, looking away as she crossed her arms. He recognized the difference in her mannerisms, it was a defensive posture she was just trying to protect herself.

"Not really," he answered honestly.

"That's understandable, I just..." she faltered. She looked almost as if she was trying to shrink away. He hadn't seen her look that way very often and it didn't make him feel good. "I shouldn't have expected it. It's not like you've ever apologized to me. Ever."

"Casey, wait," he called.

"I'm..." He took a deep breath. He must be crazy for what he was about to do. "I'm sorry too."

"For what?"

"Bribing Schleper."

"That's all," she asked, her expression half-expectation and half-hope.

"You can't tel me you were expecting more," he answered.

"I don't know maybe an I'm sorry for this,"she asked, rubbing her neck.

"Yeah, I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you," he answered. "Or maybe I would. You should try it. Let me know how that works out for you."

"You'll apologize for bribing a guy, but you won't apologize for this,"she said, once again displaying his handy to work to him.

"Well, I just used Schelper to get you out of your comfort zone," he explained, pushing his sleeves up as he crossed his arms. "But_that_" he pointed, "You had coming,"

"For what?"

"Really?" he asked, titling his head and raising an eyebrow.

She looked defeated. "Then I guess this means you don't accept my apology."

"Well, did you mean it?"

"I said it didn't I?"

"So did I," he admitted.

"You didn't mean that," she questioned, her voice a mixture of both defeat and pure irritation.

"Well, that depends," he drawled.

"On what!"

"Did you mean yours?"

"Of course I did," she said, exasperated.

"Really?" he questioned, skeptically.

"Really," she replied, her answer final. She was looking away again, the fire lost in her humiliation. "Look Derek I know an apology doesn't make up for making you feel so... I guess gross is the only word for it-"

"It wasn't gross, Casey."

"What would call it then?" she said, her eyes swinging back on him.

"I don't know," he answered, shrugging. "Weird maybe."

"Weird?" she echoed, curiously.

"Fine then... Different," he replied, "Hell, probably even illegal, but not gross."

She laughed despite trying not to. "You're a real smooth talker, Venturi."

"Oh, yeah you're quite the vixen yourself," he acknowledged.

"Hey," she said, feigning insult. "You didn't exactly fight me off."

"You got me there," he admitted.

"Well, I mean why didn't you?" she asked, her voice suddenly serious.

"Well, why did _you_ decide to do it in the first place?" he asked, turning the table.

"You really don't want to know," she said looking away again.

"Try me?"

Pale eyes met his as she nibbled her thumbnail. He could see she wanted to hold his gaze and he would've been happy to oblige her but she looked away. Taking a deep breath she pulled her thumb away from her mouth, threading her fingers as they fell into her lap.

"I did it because, I knew you'd let me," she answered, her big pale eyes on his chin.

"You knew I'd let you," he echoed with a mixture of disbelief and disgrace. Did she really think that little of him? That he'd be eager to score with any chick ready and willing? Well, maybe she wasn't all wrong.

"But I mean..." she said, cutting through his sudden internal dialogue. "You don't need to worry about it. I mean it won't happen again. I promise."

"Good plan," he answered, ignoring his more instinctual reaction.

She made no rebuttal and somehow it made him feel worse.

"Derek, I know this is asking a lot, but-" she started, tugging on her ring finger.

"Let me stop you there Casey," he said, pointing the bag of frozen peas at her. "After everything you've put me through are you really going to ask me for a favour?"

"Yes," she answered.

He exhaled, letting the cold bag fall into his lap. "Let me hear it then."

"Derek, you're not going to tell anybody are you?" she asked, trying to muster a smile but her shaking chin exposed her. "I can't blame you if you do, but-"

He smiled. Her teeth were biting dangerously hard into her lip and for a moment he was sure that if she spoke she was going to spit blood. There weren't any tears in her eyes, but he suspected that they were right beneath the surface. The corners of his lips twitched, but his humourless smile never faltered. There were very few things in life that he enjoyed more than watching Casey MacDonald squirm, but tonight she just looked pathetic. He quickly lifted a hand to stop her.

"I'm not going to tell anybody, Case," he answered.

Her thin eyebrows knitted. "Well, why wouldn't you?"

He yawned, rolling his eyes. "If I have to explain that to you Casey then you're not as smart as you think you are."

"Then what do you want?"

He shrugged, crossing his arms. "To go to sleep."

"I'm serious, Derek?" she whined. "What do you want?"

"Seriously Casey, I don't want anything."

"Are you sure?" she asked, skeptically. "You don't want me to take your dish-day or-"

"No," he answered, feeling his patience running thin. "Just keep your promise and leave me alone, okay."

She nodded her head.

"Well, I guess you need to go to bed huh."

"What would've given you that idea?" he asked, closing his eyes and falling back onto his pillows.

He listened for the familiar click of his door being shut, but it never came.

"Derek," she asked, her voice soft.

"Yeah," he answered, lifting one eyelid to look at her. She looked different backlit by the hall light. She didn't look nearly as severe.

"I really am sorry," she said, her voice cracking on her last words.

He closed his eye again, getting lost in the darkness behind it. "I know."

"Case," he called, when heard the swing of his door.

"Yes," she said, pushing it back open. He didn't look at her, but he imagined she was leaning against the door knob in that completely oblivious way she did.

"If anybody asks he was twice your size," he said.

"Who was?"

"The guy who gave me the black eye," he said, reaching for the frozen peas and holding them up for her inspection. "He was twice your size."

She laughed. It wasn't much but it was a definitely a laugh.

Derek pressed the cold bag of vegetables to his eye. He should've felt better, but something was gnawing at the pit of his stomach. Something was holding him back. He couldn't do it. He couldn't shake the feeling that his step-sister was lying. He had to admit that she'd gotten better at it over the years, but she still failed to hide those classic signs. Maybe she could fool Nora or even his dad, but not him. No, Casey was going to keep her little secrets, but at the moment he just couldn't bring himself to care.

TBC...

Author Notes: I don't like stating the obvious, but that was only half of Casey's true reason.


	7. Chapter 7

Title: Queen of Tarts 6/?

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Derek's birthday! Also this was written BEFORE "Sixteen Sparkplugs" and it's not Beta'd so as always proceed at your own risk.

Disclaimer: I don't own Life With Derek or anything affiliated with it.

* * *

Despite the first two days the rest of his birthday week was practically normal. At least considered normal for the McDonald/Venturi household. For once Casey had stayed true to her word and had kept up her end of the deal. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about that, but he was happy to be getting his sleep back. He'd had to lay the charm on thick, but eventually his Chem partner had finally come around. He'd been right about her being as smart Casey. She wasn't easy to sway, but he'd done it. Even hockey practice had been pretty decent. His coach having had only yelled at him half-a-dozen times versus the whole dozen he usually earned.

The day before had been a particularly hard practice and as he pulled on his jeans he felt it in every muscle. His arms and legs still ached despite the scalding hot shower he'd taken that morning. Rolling his shoulders, he couldn't remember a time that he'd been this tender. It was ridiculous. He was a fit eighteen-year-old boy. He wasn't supposed to be sore. On the other hand some masochistic part of him actually liked it. It was a little justification for pushing himself a little harder. He just wished it didn't hurt so hard.

After buckling his belt he pulled a knee up to his chest hoping it would ease the pain. It didn't. Groaning, he surrendered his impromptu stretching session and opened his bedroom door.

The house was quite. Eerily quiet.

Taking the steps he noticed the empty dinner table, the abandoned couch and his jacket and duffle all alone on the ever abused coat rack.

He shook his head. His family had decided to skip out on his birthday breakfast. Well, so much for tradition?

He had to admit that it was rather disappointing. His family was supposed to wake him up with breakfast in bed. They were supposed to dote on him mercilessly. They were supposed to make complete fools of themselves over him.

Where were they? Where in the hell were his chocolate chip pancakes? Where were his homemade gifts?

Standing on the bottom step, he ran a hand through his hair letting his fingers linger on the back of his neck. Maybe when you turned eighteen you were too old for things like that. No chocolate-chip pancakes. No ridiculous songs. No presents.

"Beautiful," he mumbled bitterly dragging himself off the steps. Head down, he parted the kitchen doors ready to make his own breakfast, a stupid bowl of cereal.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

He nearly swore, catching the unacceptable words on the tip of his tongue. It took a second for him to catch his bearings as he took his usual seat at breakfast. When he did, he had to fight hard to stop the smile that threatened his aloof facade. There had to be something said for the power of lame.

His Smarti was sitting next to his plate of pancakes, a ball of wrapping paper clenched in her fist. It was probably just another pet rock, but those usually made the best paper weights.

As usual his brother and Lizzy were dressed for school and sitting side by side. They both had small wrapped boxes in front of them. Lizzy's present was wrapped much neater. They always were.

Casey's present was a little bigger, but just as neat. But it was nothing compared to her fake smile. He sighed, looking from her to her present before looking away. He wasn't even going to try and guess what was behind that door.

Surprisingly, glancing at his dad and Nora he noticed they weren't holding anything. Nothing at all. Frowning he looked back at his breakfast. That was never a good sign.

"Time to blow-out your candle, Smerek," Marti called, pushing his breakfast around in a circle.

"Thanks, Smarti," he said, sliding the plate of pancakes in-front of him and grabbing the fork she offered.

"Dude, you should probably blow out that candle. Pancakes weren't built for holding lit pillars of wax," Edwin said, warily eyeing the candle in the centre of his breakfast.

"Smarti," he said, pointing at the candle and like always she immediately blew it out.

He didn't care to pull the tiny candle out as he sawed of his first bite. Derek couldn't deny that Nora made one hell of a pancake.

"Good pancakes, Nora," he said, through a mouthful of breakfast.

"Well, thank you Derek," Nora answered, sounding nervous and confused. "But I didn't have to time to make them this morning so Casey did."

He dropped his fork and his eyebrows knit as he rounded on his step-sister.

"What'd'you to do them?"

"Nothing," she answered innocently, her mouth dropping open.

"Are you sure?" he questioned.

"Presents!" Marti cried, shoving the surprisingly light object into his hand.

He quickly looked to his dad for confirmation, and he gave the go ahead.

Unwrapping it, he quickly mustered a fake smile to hide behind. It wasn't homemade and it wasn't a rock, but it was just as useless.

"Thanks Smarti," he said, giving her a hug for reassurance. "I love it. I've been needing a key chain."

Pushing his breakfast away he moved onto Ed and Lizzie's gifts. They were no less confusing. Lizzie had bought him environmentally safe cleaning supplies for nylon interior and Ed gave him a gift certificate for getting his oil changed. Derek suspected his brother had found it lying around the house.

He gave them both smiles but the strain was starting to hurt his face.

Receiving Casey's gift was more stressful than it should've been. She was smiling, one of her classic '_Isn't the world sunshine and daisies'_ smiles. It would have been unnerving had it not been so annoying. He held her gaze just a little longer than he should have as she slid it in front of him. Maybe it was the underlined intent behind his eyes, but she broke it before he could.

He presents were always wrapped too perfectly. Rarely were you able to find the tape or the small overlap of paper on paper. She aligned the patterns so well, some people thought it was a shame to spoil something so well thought out. Destroying something so perfect. Derek relished it. He could feel her clench her jaw as he intentionally ripped apart the decorative paper, pulling off the last remains as he flipped over the box.

"Floor mats?" he asked, turning the box to Casey. "Seriously?"

"I thought you'd like them?" she asked, confused.

"Oh, I do," he said mockingly "They're very nice floor mats, but as you can see they're still FLOOR MATS."

"What's wrong with floor mats?"

"Nothing. 'Cept for the fact that I don't have anything to put them in."

"Are you so sure about that?" she screeched, weaving her head in that familiar way of hers. He loved making her that mad. He would've basked in having made her lose her cool, but he was too busy looking at his dad and step-mom.

His dad was looking very tired as he pulled something out of his pocket.

"Well, we were going to wait until you figured it out," said his Dad, giving Casey a very disappointed look as she deflated beside him. "But I guess the cat's out of the bag."

Derek only heard the simple jingle and the glint of copper and light before he snatched the set of keys out of the air.

* * *

"You're disappointed," Nora said, her voice betraying her.

He couldn't help it. She was right. It wasn't at all what he wanted. Not even close. It was four doors. It was nearly a decade old. It was blue. It was a Honda CR-V. Something soccer mom's still trying to be hip drove around.

"It's perfect," he lied, trying to sound sincere but his voice lacked conviction and treaded the line of unpleased.

"You hate it. I can see it on your face," she argued. His dad had an arm around her, but he hadn't said anything so far.

"No, I'm just surprised. It isn't at all what I expected," he answered, honestly.

"Really?" she asked hopefully, her pale eyes beginning to sparkle at the idea that she had somehow fulfilled some void.

"You could quote me on it," he answered dryly.

"Well," his dad asked. "Do you want to take it for a spin?"

"Sure, why not?" he said, wryly. "Let's make the whole neighbourhood jealous."

He couldn't help giving a small scoff at his own joke. Who was going to be jealous of this? Sam, maybe. Ralph definitely. But that was about it. Everyone else it seemed had gotten the car they wanted. Not the one their parents picked out for them. It wasn't really fair, but lately it seemed like Karma was really trying to make up for lost time.

"What's so funny?" Casey asked, her arms crossed over her chest.

She'd been standing behind him on the sidewalk the whole time, but he'd chosen to ignore her. Not moving he glanced back at her. It wouldn't do any good to try and explain his dilemma to her. She'd just call him a selfish pig. That seemed to be her favourite lately.

"Ugh, nothing," he answered, turning back to his new car. "So, who wants to ride?"

He smiled as he heard Ed and Lizzie calling shot-gun at the same time. He knew that was going to start a fight. One Lizzie would most likely win. That didn't bother him much, Edwin had never been much of a fighter anyway.

Turning around, he noticed they were already in their coats. Eager for their first ride in his new present. Well, maybe not new, but new to him.

"Yes, yes, yeeees and..." he said, pointing at each one of his siblings before resting on Casey. "No." He smiled as he watched her lips form a pout.

"Good, because I didn't even want to ride," she argued. It was clear that he'd offended her. His smile grew wider, as he swung his new key ring around on his finger.

"_Good,_" he echoed, "'Cause you're not," he called, walking around his hood and opening the door.

"Says who?" she asked, following him as he climbed into the car. He suspected that she didn't want to ride with him as much as she wanted to prove him wrong.

"Says me," he answered, shutting his door before she could wedge herself in. "My car my rules," he said, showing her the keys through the window.

* * *

He'd driven his new present away from the curb and didn't turn it around until Lizzy had made him. She'd been cool for the first few miles, but after a few glances at the clock she'd insisted he drive her back. He couldn't blame her. They were going to be pretty late.

When he'd pulled back in, he should've yelled at Edwin and Lizzy for jumping out before he'd parked, but he figured it might be a necessary life skill. Who knew when you'd have to jump out of a moving vehicle?

Nora met him at the door, giving him a smile as she took Marti from him. He didn't think much of it until he came into the living room. He'd planned to just grab his bags and leave, but his dad caught him right before he'd made his escape.

"'Sup?" he asked.

His dad was at the dinner table, a stack of papers and pen in-front of him.

"Take a seat."

"I'm gonna be late," he argued, letting his new key chain swing around his finger as he indicated the door with his head.

"I'll write you a note," said his dad in that same passive tone.

"Last time, I checked 'lawyer excuses' weren't sufficient enough to get me out of Chem."

"Just take a seat Derek."

Groaning Derek dropped his bag and dragged himself to the dinner table, sighing loudly he slid into his regular chair. His father, the lawyer, looked nervous. That was never a good thing.

"Derek, I was talking to Nora and she pointed out..." his dad exhaled. "Let me start over. Nora and I were discussing it and we think that before we officially give you the car that..." His dad folded his hands on the table. "Well, it would really make us feel better if we got a few rules down on paper."

"What d'you mean rules?" he asked, his eyes moving from his dad to the papers between them.

"Y'know just a few conditions."

"Conditions?" he questioned, feeling his face getting hot as he sat up. "So my birthday present has conditions."

"Sort of," said his dad, giving him that passive grin.

"Sort of?" he echoed.

"Well, she- _we"_he corrected, too quickly. "We just think that if your going to have the luxury of having a car that maybe you should shoulder more responsibilities."

"Then keep it," he said, instantly regretting his outburst, but unable to stop himself.

"You're not being fair, Derek. You haven't even heard the terms."

"I don't have to," he argued, feeling that familiar fire in his belly. "I'd rather walk everywhere than be bribed into being Mister Carpool."

"Nobody's making you do anything, Derek," his father countered, trying to be civil but hold his ground.

"Really, cause it sounds a lot like you're letting someone else make your decisions for you," he said, not caring to hide his insinuation.

"Watch yourself, Derek," his father warned. "You're dangerously close to that line."

His face had suddenly blushed, his blonde hair wild. Derek knew the signs. He was making his father mad.

Exhaling, he sat back down in his seat closing his eyes. To be honest he hadn't even been aware he'd stood up. Opening his eyes, he stared back at his father. He looked tired. Too tired to compromise. This was going to be it. Agree, get the car and be bound to whatever his stepmother had put in that contract or disagree and have his freedom, but be another victim of foot traffic.

He needed to calm down, before he did something really stupid. He'd been given a car. A freaking car! Why couldn't he just be happy?

He knew he'd regret it. That was undeniable, but he pulled his chair back to the table and settled down.

"So," he said, pushing his shirt sleeves to his elbows as he crossed his arms. "What kinda terms?"

* * *

Having signed the 'contract' or as he liked to call it 'the police-state agreement' Derek had a little time to kill since he'd already missed Chemistry. Forehead resting on his forearms, he sat quietly at the table more angry with himself than anything else. He didn't like being forced into things. It wasn't a position he was familiar with and he didn't like it. That was when he'd heard the noise. It hadn't been very loud and if the house hadn't been empty it would've probably not caught his attention at all.

Looking up, he caught her watching him from the kitchen. When his eyes connected with her own, she slid the doors shut too fast. This was her fault. He couldn't prove it, but it had to be true. His dad wouldn't have made him sign that contract. No, his dad hadn't even hinted about anything even remotely close to something like that, not until he'd told her no on the sidewalk. Did she only exist to annoy the hell out of him? Was that her only reason for living? Because she was doing a pretty damn good job of it.

He should've let it go. Had it been anyone else he just may have, but she wasn't anyone else. She was Casey McDonald.

His dad was gone. The house was empty. They were all alone. He could do whatever he wanted to her. Anything at all. He laughed to himself as he sat back in his chair.

* * *

It would be midday before she caught up with him at his locker. He couldn't stop the smirk that broke across his face as he turned to face her. She was irate. Her hair wasn't quite as perfect as it had been that morning and there was a button missing on her cardigan.

"Derek, did you lock me in the kitchen," she screeched in that familiar way that brought all eyes on them. As always she had to make a spectacle of herself doing it. Couldn't she ever just be normal?

"C'mon Case," he said, knowingly. "Of course I did."

"You're such a-a-a" she stuttered, her big-blue eyes wide with anger.

"A-a-what?" he asked, noticing a dead leaf caught in her hair.

"I had to climb out the window because of you," she screeched, displaying her rumpled appearance and the dead leaf moved with her hair. "Derek, I missed a test. Because. Of. You."

"And you're upset about that," he asked, reaching over and snatching the loose debris out of her hair.

"What do you think?" she asked, looking at the leaf between his fingers.

"I think only a grade grubber would give a shit, if they missed a test," he said, shoving it back in her free hand.

"That's easy for you to say. You don't care about anything but yourself," she argued, shoving the leaf into her jean pocket.

"Not true," he answered, slamming his locker door shut. "I care about the fact that I had to sign a freaking contract to drive MY OWN birthday present because you decided to stick your little nose where it didn't belong. Are you really that crazy to ruin my life?"

"For Pete's sake," she exclaimed. "Are you really that self-absorbed that you think that I'm out to ruin your life?"

"I have no evidence to the contrary," he said, crossing his arms as he leaned against the row.

"For your information, De-rek," she said, holding her books close to her chest. "Contrary to what your inflated ego may believe I'm not."

He tilted his head and stared back at her unconvinced.

"It never occurred to you that maybe _my_ mother and _your_ father decided that there should be some rules before handing the keys to a steel deathtrap over to an immature overzealous adrenaline fuelled hormone driven eighteen-year-old boy! You don't think that they may've came up with that common sense on their own."

"You should probably take a breath now," he said, rolling his eyes. "And no I don't. Look my dad would've never made me sign-"

"Think outside the box, Derek. Maybe it wasn't your dad," she interrupted, obviously annoyed with him.

"Yeah, I know it wasn't. It was _your_ Mom," he answered.

She growled. "You're always trying to pin everything on us. It was_both_ of our Moms, you imbecile."

"What?" he asked, not hiding his surprise.

"You didn't think that George and Nora were able to pay for that by themselves did you? My mom bought it from one of her clients for cheap Derek, but not _that_ cheap."

He didn't answer her. He was still too stunned.

"Did you really think we had that kind of extra money laying around? No you probably hadn't even given it a second thought."

He clenched his jaw, standing upright. She was right about that. He hadn't cared where the money had come from. Just that he'd gotten a crappy birthday present.

"You just thought it fell from the sky didn't you? Or possibly that money tree that Marti's been trying to grow for that last three years finally sprouted up over night," she added, her head snaking in that familiar way of hers.

"C'mon Derek, we may not even have enough money to send us both to university next year!"

"Wha- we don't," he asked, trying to sound nonchalant and not as confused as he felt. This wasn't something he'd anticipated.

"Wha?" she asked, biting her lips and her pale eyes going wide as she looked from the lockers back to him. "Um-uh, didn't you get the card from Abby," she asked, changing the subject quickly. "I think they put in your sun visor."

"I must've missed that," he answered. Normally, he wouldn't have let her off the hook so easily, but the school hall was the last place he wanted to discuss their families financial situation. _His_ financial situation.

"Then you should probably call her before she figures out what an ungrateful brat you are," she said, dragging her cold blue eyes from his feet to his hair.

"Casey how is it that you know so much about my mom?" he asked, leaning against his lockers again.

"Because I actually pay attention when people talk,"she answered smugly. "I don't have a running dialogue of what chick I'm gonna try and pick up."

"What was that?" he asked, smirking. "I wasn't paying attention."

"You really are the most infuriating human being ever," she snapped, staring back at him furiously. It actually looked pretty hot on her. Derek shook his head. That was insane.

"I happen to be the cutest too," he said winking back at her.

She growled and violently pushed past him as the warning bell sounded. Derek dug into his pocket pulling his cell out. He had some phone calls to make.

TBC...

So what did you think?


	8. Chapter 8

Title: Queen of Tarts

Chapter: Games You Play

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Not Beta-ed and Out-Of-Character behavior

XOXO

Derek Venturi had only driven his new car for four days and thirty-three minutes before he had his first fender-bender. He had only driven it for four days and thirty-_five_ minutes before he was grounded from it. He didn't have any hard facts, but that had to have been some kind of record.

Such a record was why he found himself sitting in his room on a Saturday night with nothing but a comic book for company. After the flip-out his dad had at the accident site he was surprised they were giving him even that luxury. He didn't know what all the fuss was about. It was just a scratch. Well, a big scratch and a little dent, but wasn't that what insurance was for.

Trying not to get hung-up on his unusual string of bad luck, he was turning the page of his comic book, when something passing by his door caught his eye.

It couldn't have been his dad or Nora, because he'd overheard them getting ready in the basement when he was grabbing a drink. He'd only remembered because that was part of his punishment, watching the kids while they went out. He'd argued that this was pointless as Edwin and Lizzy were both old enough to take care of themselves and as far as he knew neither had plans to sit at home on a weekend but this had fallen on deaf ears. It couldn't be Marti, because the last time he'd checked, she was playing on the floor in her room with the contents of Casey's new makeup bag. A good step-brother would have probably stopped Smarti, but Derek was anything but a good step-brother.

A pale well manicured hand on his door frame brought his eyes away from the current scantily clad vixen of his story line and by the time he looked up she had already popped her head around the corner.

"What're you doing here?" she asked.

"Astrophysics, " he answered, looking back at his comic book. "What does it look like I'm doing Casey?"

"Dropping IQ points," she answered, her pale eyes inspecting him suspiciously. "You're not going out," she asked.

"Well," he replied. "Sam's out of town. I can't use my car. And I've got practice at six."

"In the morning," she asked, laughing as she stepped further into his room.

He focused miserably on the paper bound story in his hand, but suddenly couldn't read a thing.

"Un-fortunately," he answered, remembering the fit his coach was throwing at the end of their last practice. He hadn't been paying much attention but there was something about a group of useless clots and a bunch of sissified Bambies on ice. Of course, he had responded with something vague about an overstuffed pig on a Zamboni. Which in the end earned him twenty-five suicides and a barely missed water bottle to the head. He was pretty sure it was illegal for a grown man to throw things at him, but what the hell, the guy got results.

"Why? What're you doing?" he asked, titling his head to get a better view of her.

"Who? Me. Nothing," she answered anxiously. "I'm not doing anything."

"Liar," he answered arrogantly, looking her in the eye. He caught a glimpse of something between anger and shame, before she diverted herself to the piles of dirty laundry on his floor.

Chuckling at the ridiculousness of it all, he stole a lazy glance at her clothes and laughed even louder.

"You're not going _anywhere_," he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Not that I have to justify myself to you Derek, but I'm going to Emily's," she answered, that fire back behind her eyes.

"Sure you are," he agreed mockingly, lazily turning back to his comic book.

"You don't believe me," she demanded, peevishly. Cheap as it was, questioning her character was on of the many quick and easy ways he knew to drive Casey crazy. There wasn't much work in it which was just as well, but ironically he wasn't actually trying to at the moment, but she fell for it just the same. But he couldn't just ignore such an easy opportunity.

"Nope," he answered smugly.

"Well," she started and from her tone he knew she was at a loss for words. "I don't care if you believe me. It's none of your business anyway." "You're right it's not, but…"

He laughed loudly as she turned on her heel and stalked out in a huff slamming his bedroom door in the process. Casey was, if nothing else, predictable. He never looked up from is comic, but counted off his fingers waiting for the crack of his door being thrown open and the familiar click her boots.

"But what?" she asked, her cheeks a flusher pink.

"But nothing," he said, waving her off as he pretended to be interested in the girl on the page. "It's none of my business, right?"

She stood quiet. Probably looking for some retort, something that would make him react, but even all the reading in the world couldn't give her a sharper tongue. He felt her turning, trying to exit the room before he crushed her again. He should've let her go, but...

"Good luck getting past Nora," he called, predictably stopping her in her tracks.

"What do you mean? Why would I need luck?" she asked, curiously.

"'Cause last time I checked Nora had put an end to your little Invisible Man routine," he answered, sitting up a little better.

"What do you mean?" she asked, looking genuinely confused.

"You're little disappearing act," he answered smugly. "I mean _I know _why you didn't want to be here, but..."

Her hand immediately reached for the door pushing it shut. "You're such a pig," she whispered, stepping closer to his bed. "You said you wouldn't… You promised."

"Did I?" he asked, feigning ignorance as he gave her his best smirk.

She quickly crossed her arms over her chest. Something that couldn't have been easy with such a big coat on. "What do you want, Derek?" she accused, her eyes narrowing on him.

He had a billion answers to that question, but couldn't think of one. He was watching her and his whole body knew it. Blue eyes were staring back at him unflinching in their challenge. She looked different when she was mad. Less vulnerable, more real. It would've been unnerving or even hot had it been anyone else. Any one besides his step-sister, the one girl who made him want to pull his hair out.

Looking away from her, he sighed. He hated being Derek Venturi some days.

"Do you really think you'll make it passed your mom like that," he asked, picking up his abandoned comic.

"What do you mean?" she asked, instantly looking down at her clothes and then back at him. She'd never been good at sneaky. Well, those first few weeks when they had been...

"Look at what you're wearing Casey," he answered, shaking loose those other thoughts. "Coat zipped all the way to the top, enormous purse, enough makeup to put a call-girl to shame. You don't think you're mom's not going to look right through that."

Her head titled back as she mumbled something incoherent to the ceiling and Derek could see the barely yellow stain where he'd kissed her throat weeks before. She nodded her head back down and instantly he felt his cheeks warm. He was such an ass.

"D'you promise not to rat me out?" she asked, her nervous habit beginning to show.

"No," he answered, watching her teeth really launch into abusing her lower lip. He really did like watching her squirm. "C'mon Case, what purpose would that serve."

"For you?" she asked, smiling without humor. "Too many."

"That's fair," he answered, stretching his arms as he crossed them behind his head. "So where're you going dressed like that anyway?"

"Emily wants to set me up with one of Trevor's friends," she said.

He laughed despite the look on her face. "_You're_ going on a blind date."

"No," she said, uncertainly. "It's more like a double-date."

"Really?" he asked, feeling a twinge of something but ignoring it.

"Well, he's seen a picture of me on Emily's my-"

"And after that the poor bastard still agreed to it," he interrupted, feeling that twinge again. What kind of freak saw a girl's picture on the internet and called her up for a chat? "Are you sure he's not blind? Or is he just into dating grab-grubbing Babe Raider wannabes."

She straightened her shoulders pushing a section of curled hair behind her. "Is it really that hard to fathom that someone could like me Derek?" she asked unable to mask her agitation. "It really is," he answered, turning back to his comic.

He kept his eyes glued to the illustrated pages, not seeing them at all, until he heard his door slam. Something inside of him, the same thing that made his jaw tick, reared it's ugly head and he threw the comic against the wall. The same wall he shared with his step-sister. So, Casey had a date. How fucking wonderful?

XOXO

Apparently Casey had taken his warning to heart, because she hadn't emerged from her room until his Dad and Nora were well on their way to the restaurant. When she'd finally come down the stairs, he'd tried his best to ignore her as he grabbed Marti's exhausted form off the couch and put her to bed. She hadn't been there when he'd come back down to channel surf.

The parental units still hadn't made it home when he'd dragged himself upstairs. Six o'clock in the morning might not seem that bad to some people, but asking him to be up and skating by that time was like the third circle of hell. Which is precisely what he was sure his coach was going to put him through.

Sleep hadn't come easy, but he'd eventually gotten to that funny little place between dreaming and reality. That's why when his phone had begun to ring the first time he'd ignored it and he'd ignored the jingle of keys as his dad and Nora let themselves in. Their voices were just a little too loud for his tastes, but too much wine could make anyone obnoxious.

The house had just settled down again and his mind was beginning to wander closely to the edge of sleep, when the lyrical mobile-ring cut through his limbo. He blindly searched his covers for his phone. Without reading the small screen he answered it.

"What?" he asked gruffly, not regretting his rude greeting. Hey, it was better than the alternative, "What the fuck?"

"Derek."

His eyes flew open.

"Emily?" he asked, more confused than ever.

"I'm sorry for calling so late, but-"

"Whoa, how'd you get my number?" he asked, his tongue trying to catch up with his mind.

"It's in Casey's phone," she answered.

"Okay," he said, almost accepting that answer. "Wait a minute. What're you doing with Casey's phone?"

"That's kind of the reason I'm calling you?"

He didn't say anything letting his eyes drift closed again.

"Are you still there?" she asked, her voice filled with concern.

"Yeah," he answered soberly, trying to shake himself awake.

"I wouldn't have called you unless it was really important-"

"Spit it out, Emily," he said, uncaring and un-amused. It was close to two o'clock in the morning he didn't have the energy to be laid back.

"Casey really needs you to come and pick her up. Actually we both do," she said, her squeaky words running together.

He ran a hand through his hair. What the hell?

"You can't catch a ride with somebody else."

"Everyone I know already left and I don't feel comfortable trying to walk all that-"

"What about your mom and dad or Nora?" he asked, looking for any reason to stay put in his nice warm bed, between his nice warm sheets.

"Well, I would have," she started, her voice nervous even over the phone. "But Casey would been in a lot of trouble if-"

"Wait, hold on," he asked, laughing despite his lack of sleep. "Can I ask why?"

"Let's just say she can't pass a sobriety test right now to save a whole herd of baby seals," Emily stated factually. "Or pods or whatever they're called."

His eyes moved to the ceiling above his bed as he gave a healthy laugh. This had to be her best attempt yet. Unable to control it, he was laughing as he sat up, switched ears, and threw his feet over the edge of his bed.

"Come on Emily."

"Derek!"

"Seriously, how gullible to you think I am," he asked.

"What're you talking about? I'm not kidding-"

"Lem'me get this straight," he started. "You're telling me, my stepsister, Casey McDonald is drunk?" he laughed again, but there was less conviction in it. "I'm not stupid Emily. I get it. You're trying to prank me. Tell Casey nice try, but it's pretty lame."

Emily made a noise he didn't recognize, but didn't sound pleasant at all. "Those are new shoes you jerk!"

He looked at his phone confused. "Sorry about that, but I'm serious, Derek. I don't know what's gotten into her, but she's making a complete fool of herself."

"And that's different, how?" he asked, still not convinced, but he was a good sport. He could play along.

"Well, she almost got into a fight. I mean it wasn't her fault, but-"

"Okay, now you're lying," he said, feeling the humour draining out of him. It really was too early for this. "Who's pathetic enough to try and fight Casey? The girl's a freakin' Saint."

"Stacey McBride, that's who," she answered.

"Who?" he asked.

"That mean redhead that Schlepper's completely infatuated with."

"My Chem.-partner? Why?"

"I really don't have time to go into that right now. I left her with Tinker-"

"What in the hell's _he_ doing there?" he almost shouted, before taking a breath and drawing his cool voice.

"Derek," she shouted and he could hear her loud exhale. His neighbor was at the end of her rope. "Can you come and get us or not?"

There was two ways this could go, he could either ignore Emily, turn off his phone and go back to sleep and get Casey grounded for life, but risk having his own car taken away _again_ for stranding his step-sister in her hour of need. Or, he could throw on some jeans and a jacket, drive over, pick her up and get some primo black-mail on his saintly step-sib. He read the numbers on his digital clock.

Choices. Choices.

"Did you fall asleep?" asked the very agitated voice over the phone.

"What?" he asked. "No."

"Great, so you won't come and get us? Y'know maybe Casey's right. She said-"

Derek held the phone away from his ear as her filtered voice disrupted the quiet of his room. Finally, when there was nothing but dead-air did he feel safe enough to cradle the phone to his ear.

"Are you finished?" he asked, trying to sound indifferent.

"Yes," she answered, nearly out of breath.

"Where are you?" he asked, yawning.

He tried wiping the sleep from his eyes as he listened to the address and tried to recount directions and street signs in his sleep addled mind.

"What the hell," he said, astonished pulling the hand away from his eyes. "That's on the other side of the park."

"I know," she snapped. "It's why I can't call a cab, but what do you care? You're not coming to get us."

"Do me a solid Emily?"

"What?"

"Take a breath." He sighed, "I'll be there in twenty minutes."

"Oh, I knew you couldn't be that big of a jerk," she squealed causing him to hold the phone aloft. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

"Look," he ordered. "You two better be standing outside on the sidewalk, because if I have to come in and get you I'm leaving. Got it."

"Outside. Sidewalk. Got it."

Hoping he wasn't going to regret what he'd just agreed to, Derek closed his phone and began blindly searching the floor for his jeans.

XOXO

The heater in his car was on high as he pulled up in-front of the house party. He glanced at the clock on his dashboard. He'd made pretty good time. Like she'd promised, his neighbor was standing on the side walk. Casey was on the curb, her head resting against her knees, and Tinker Tomlin was by her side. In her coat she looked like a giant pink dust bunny curled up by Emily's feet.

Putting the gear stick into park he unlocked his doors as his neighbor approached the car. Emily immediately jumped in.

"God, it's cold out there," she said, taking off her gloves and wiggling her fingers in front of the vents.

He looked past her. "Did you forget something, Em?"

"What?" she asked, looking at him with confusion.

With an annoyed smile and a wave of his hand he motioned to her inebriated best friend.

"Oh," she said, looking out the window. She didn't even have the decency to attempt helping his step-sister into the car. "There's no way I can pick her up, Derek. She might look light, but she's far from it."

Breathing through his nose he reached for the back of his neck. Casey was going to owe him big time for this. Clenching his jaw he was grabbing the button on his seatbelt when his side door opened. Turning to the backseat, he felt himself stiffen as he watched Tinker Tomlin help his step-sister into the car.

"In you go Casey," Tomlin whispered holding her steady as she climbed into the seat behind Emily.

"Do you think I could catch a ride home?" the little weasel asked giving Derek a hopeful smile. Fucking little brownnoser. He never had liked him, though Derek suspected the ginger had never cared for him much either.

"No," he answered, turning back toward his steering wheel. Now was not the time to be asking him for favors.

"Derek please," Emily pleaded, grabbing his arm in that weird 'you can't deny them anything' way that girls had. He rolled his shoulders, cracking his knuckles as he gripped the steering wheel too hard. He was starting to worry that girls really were his only weakness. His kryptonite.

"Fine. Whatever. Just get in the car," he said, checking his rear view mirror and seeing a puffy piece of pink kryptonite sleeping soundly.

XOXO

He knew he should've kept his eyes on the dark road ahead of him. That was just safe driving and only God knew what would happen if he got pulled over and his Dad found out that he'd snuck out, stolen the keys, and was joy riding with his under aged drunken step-sister at two in the morning.

Now that he thought of it how in the hell was he going to get in the house without waking either of them up. Yeah, they'd had a bit to drink, but not that much. They were bound to hear him crashing through the house with his inebriated step-sib.

He'd done it before on a solo mission and had gotten all the way up the stairs and to the toilet before someone had come to investigate. Actually it had been Casey that had tried to bring him a sports drink and crackers when he'd told her that the reason he was sick was from a bug. But that was him. Not Casey. Not Klutzilla.

His eyes darted to the rearview mirror.

She was leaning against the window, her face stained orange from the street lamps.

He should've known she wasn't going on a date. He knew her. She was far too predictable not to, so why hadn't he caught it. But he hadn't figured her for much of a lush either, what with her being president of the stop underage drinking club. Or a fighter? Or a succubus either? Hell, he hadn't figured her for a lot of things. What in the hell was up with her?

He fixed his eyes back on the road ahead of him, slowing the car and throwing his blinker on at the appropriate time. Righting the car, his eyes drifted back to the rearview mirror.

A big brown curl had fallen into her face and was moving with each breath she took. Leaning over her, Tomlin's pasty little fingers were taking their sweet time brushing it back into place. The Little Creep.

"Y'know Tinker, there's a _whole_ back seat there," he said, seeking out the other boys eyes. "Take up as much of it as you want. I'm sure Casey wouldn't mind breathing for a couple of minutes."

He could feel Emily's eyes on him, but he didn't care.

"I'm good, thanks," the weasel answered.

"I bet," he mumbled, pulling the car onto his street.

"I'm sorry. What'd you say?" Tinker asked, his eyes back on Casey.

"Nothing."

He had barely put the gear in park before Emily was already out of the car and rushing down the sidewalk. He'd had to leave his door open and nearly slide over the hood to stop her.

"Whoa! Where's the fire, Em?" he asked, nearly out of breath from the sudden shot of adrenaline.

She looked down at her watch and up at the lights on in her house.

"I'm sorry Derek," she said, sounding genuinely apologetic. "But I've got curfew."

"Don't you think you've already broken that by about_ three hours_," he answered.

"I know," she answered. "So I really can't bring her in like that," she finished, gesturing toward Casey's slowly rising form.

"But I was kind of counting on her going home with you," he said, pulling on the cuff of his leather jacket. "Shit that's where Nora thinks she's at. I mean you went through all this crap just to get her here without getting in trouble. Don't you think it'll be a little suspicious to find her sleeping in the fucking car tomorrow morning."

Emily took a step away from him shaking her curly head. Closing his eyes briefly he took a deep calming breath. He opened his eyes and his mouth to apologized, but Emily was already walking up her steps.

He wanted to scream. Or possibly kick something.

"I can help you bring her in," Tinker said, having rounded the front of the car.

"Don't worry about it, dude," Derek said, trying to tap his reserve of will power. "Get home before you get grounded too. I got her."

"It's really no problem," Tinker argued, moving around Derek and opening the passenger door.

Derek easily pushed the door shut. "I'm sure it's not," he whispered. "But I said I'll take care of it."

"I really think-""Look, I don't give a shit what you think. She's my step-sister and my problem so. Just. Go. Home," Derek whispered, through clenched teeth.

"No," he answered, holding his breath.

Derek's eyes shot up to the ginger-haired boy standing in front of him. Paler for it, Tomlin straightened up to his full height which didn't do much for the rest of him. He appeared more waif thin than usual. If he had been in a better mood this display of male aggression would've have amused Derek, but unfortunately for Tinker Tomlin he was in anything but.

"I'm sorry what'd you say?" Derek asked, his voice lazy as he leaned his head to the side.

"You heard me," Tomlin answered. "I'm not going. I don't trust you, Derek. "

"Smart man," he replied, rolling his shoulders as he watched Tinker Tomlin.

"You might do something to embarrass her," Tomlin noted, licking his lips.

"You're right," Derek agreed, calmly taking a step forward. "I just might."

"That's why I can't leave her alone with you," he answered, as if Derek hadn't spoken at all.

"I don't know, Tinker," Derek said, shrugging as he leaned against the door coming even with the other boy. "Maybe,_ you__'__re_ the one who shouldn't be left alone with her. Maybe all that pent up frustration just might bubble to the top. I mean put that on top of an already fragile ego, what with all the rejection Casey's thrown your way. Not to mention the countless times she's used you, and lookee here, one unconscious Casey McDonald. Oh, the possibilities."

Tinker's beady eyes doubled in size. "You're sick Venturi," he defended. "I would never."

"Yeah, I'm not so willing to bank on that," Derek answered, feeling guilty for the accusation but unable to help himself. He was too damned tired to be arguing with some lovesick puppy when he had to be back up for hockey practice in less than three hours. "Now, you can leave or I can help you."

"I'm not scared of you, Derek," Tomlin said, and even as he did it, Derek knew it was taking all the boy's reserves of courage, as he gave Derek a good shove.

Derek laughed but there was nothing nice about it.

"Good," he answered smiling as he felt that all too familiar twitch. "Then I won't feel so bad about this."

"About-"

It was more difficult than he'd originally thought but Derek managed to turn the smaller boy around, slamming him into the car door. Without hesitation he pulled his arm up behind him, dodging the foot that kicked out at his most sensitive area. He heard Tinker whimper as he pulled the hand up higher. A classic big brother move.

"Listen up, Tomlin," he said, sounding much too pleasant than the situation called for. "I'm not an ordinarily violent person. Hell, I'm down right chummy, but if I see you around my step-sister again I will literally make your life a living hell. The best part is that you won't even know it was me. That's how fucking good I am. Do we understand each other?"

"Yeah," Tomlin agreed and instantly Derek regretted having put his hands on the boy at all. Pulling him off the car, Derek let him go ungraciously and Tinker gave him a look that if possible made him feel worse than he had before. Feeling like shit, Derek watched the other boy start to walk home.

His head was shaking, his leg twitching from the restraint. He wanted to fight. His body knew it. He wanted to throw that piece of shit to the ground and pound on him until is knuckles bleed. It would've felt good, but the guilt would've been unbearable. Or worse he wouldn't have felt guilt at all.

Normal people didn't feel this way. Normal people didn't beat up on defenseless little weasels. It was sick. What if that had been Ed? What if Ed had gotten the crap kicked out of him for just crushing on some chick out of his league?

Still shaking, he climbed into the backseat with his stepsister. Looking over at her barely conscious form he exhaled, putting a hand to the back of his neck. The muscles were too tight there and he tried to knead them out. He still had to get her into the house.

XOXO

Getting Casey up to bed hadn't been the hard part. She wasn't black-out drunk which was a plus and whatever she'd downed seemed to have mellowed her out which was a double plus. He'd expected her to be loud and obnoxious, but she'd surprised him. She was more like a well disciplined little mute.

She'd plopped onto her bed immediately and he felt an immediate since of relief. He'd fulfilled his step-brotherly obligations. He'd gotten her home in one piece. Hell, he'd even put her to bed without complaining. He'd kept to the sibling code. No one could expect more from him. But as he watched her helpless attempts at kicking her boots off, he sighed.

He would only help her with her boots. That was it. Then he was out.

Sitting on the end of her bed, he'd firmly grabbed one of her feet but received a well placed kick for all his trouble.

"What was that for?" He asked, rubbing his arm as he glared down at her.

"I can do it," she argued childishly, bending in half to grab the end of her boot.

"Go right ahead," he agreed, holding his hands up obediently as he watched her struggle with the zipper. She didn't move her foot from his lap as she fought viciously with the binding, which did nothing for his already foul mood.

"Oh, never mind," she whispered, falling back among her pillows.

Shaking his head, he easily unzipped both of her shoes and tugged her feet loose.

"Thank you," she purred, wiggling the toes of her freed foot. She giggled as she squeezed the loose denim of his jeans.

Standing up, he exhaled as she turned onto her side reaching for an overstuffed pillow. She'd forgotten to take her jacket off, but he was too tired to care about her future comfort.

"What're you doing Case?" he asked, feeling uncharacteristically somber.

"Goin' to sleep," she said, her voice strangely distance.

"That's not what I meant."

"I know what you meant," she said, sleepily. "I'm just-"

"You're just what?" he asked, firmly.

"Um…" Pale eyes opened to him before they drifting back closed. "Blowing off steam."

"Liar." Her eyes shot open and she sat up. "So what if I am? What do you care?"

"I care," he started, keeping his voice below as whisper as he jammed a finger into his chest. "Because _I_ had to get up in the middle of the freaking night to come and get you.

I care because _I_ was so sleep deprived from you're little midnight make-out sessions that _I_ almost failed two classes.

"I care because _I_ almost broke some kids arm for no freaking reason. That's why I care?"

She looked as if he'd just slapped her. "Whose arm?"

"Doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does."

"It was Tinker Tomlin," he answered.

Her lip quivered and she buried herself back into her pillow. "I'm sorry," she whined. "For what?" he asked, crossing his arms.

She turned her head towards him. "For everything," she answered, as if she was telling him the sky was blue. "I never meant to get you… So involved." He felt his arms drop. "What're you talking about-"

"It's just…" "Just what?" he insisted.

"I want to get into a good school and he…" she started, her voice beginning to crack. "It's just… You don't understand. You've got hockey," she explained, curving away from him. "They-they expect more from me. I should be able to do it. On my own, y'know. I'm just… I'm not you Derek."

"What're you-"

"Just go, Derek," she pleaded, climbing out of her coat and throwing it on the floor. "Please just."

Derek exhaled slowly as he turned to leave. Now was not the time to deal with Casey and whatever her alcohol addled mind was coming up with. He could hear her starting to cry as he shut the door. It wasn't her usual loud wail, but a soft whimper. It reminded him of Marti when she'd had her feelings hurt. It wasn't a very nice sound.

He didn't know why, but his stomach was beginning to hurt.

XOXO

Derek had never been one to analyze his own behavior much less the behavior of the people around him. Sure it was fun to dabble in voyeurism like Lizzy and Ed every once in a while, but it wasn't something he was going to devote all of his free time doing. Most people were either too easy to figure out, or too boring to care to even try.

But at the moment he would love to know what was going through his own head. He couldn't understand what in the hell he was doing. He couldn't understand why he was sneaking back into his step-sister's room when his bed was sitting feet away warm and inviting. He couldn't understand why he was bringing her a bottle of water and a handful of ibuprofen when she was the reason that he had his own pounding headache. He didn't understand why he was squatting beside her and gently pushing her arm to wake her up. He wasn't sure if it was going to work. Casey was a sound sleeper even without the alcohol currently flowing through her bloodstream, but after one more shove she opened her eyes.

"You okay?" he asked, staring at her.

She nodded.

"'kay then," he said, scratching the itch on his chin. "Look, take those in the morning," he ordered, pointing to the pills on her nightstand. "And don't go down stairs 'till you've drank all of that and had a shower. Got it."

She nodded, again.

Exhaling he turned to stand.

"Derek," she croaked.

"What?" he asked, squatting back down.

"Can you-" she yawned. "Can you tell me one thing?"

"What?" he asked, rubbing his itching eyes. They were beginning to water. He needed to get to sleep.

"Just one honest thing, Derek," she dreamily pleaded, her eyes closed tight.

"What? That your breath stinks because it does," he responded quickly.

"No!" she said, pressing her cheek into her pillow. "About…" "About what," he asked, standing to his full height. He wasn't sure he liked where this conversation was going.

"Y'know," she continued, lazily. "About what happened."

"You're drunk, Casey," he said, staring down at her.

"No, I'm not," she answered belligerently, "I just had a little bit to drink."

"Trust me," he smirked. "It's not going to feel like a _'little bit'_ in the morning."

XOXO

Back safely in his warm bed, Derek punched his pillow into submission. Today was just not his day. He thought he'd let go of all of this crap. He thought he didn't care. Why should he? It wasn't that he liked Casey. He couldn't stand her. Right? She was a grade-grubbing-spoiled-pretentious-little-preppy-princess. What was there to like?

He rolled over. What in the hell was wrong with him? He was too damn tired to try and make these kind of decisions. Of course he didn't like Casey. The girl had way too many screws loose and more daddy issues than he had fingers and toes.

What in the hell had she been going on about anyway? What school wouldn't take her? She was damn near the smartest person he knew and had more extra-curricular activities than the entire booster club had put together.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Derek tried to put it at the back of his mind. He didn't have time for this. He still had practice in… He glanced at the clock. Three and a half hours.

To Be Continued…

Author's Note: Okay, I know Casey was COMPLETELY OOC and Derek was borderline OOC. (I'm not going to say on which side of the border. LOL. ) But everything happens for a reason.


End file.
